What An Outlook

From my favorite publication "The Extraordinary Correspondence of D.R. and G.B."

1:45 am
Dear D,
I fear that I am "suffering" (if you want to call it that) from some kind of teenage-flashback staying up late moment. Or maybe it's that coffee you advised me not to drink at 8pm, or the chocolate ice cream I had right after that. In any case, I am experiencing this beautiful desire to stay awake and create.
I wanted to draw pictures, but I couldn't find any sketch books, so letter writing it is.

Life, it would seem to me lately, is beautiful. I know I always think that way, but Sunshine and optimism seems to be hitting me like a big, cushy hammer.
I chatter online with [long haired] C for a while this evening and the words that came out were expectantly radiant. They were friendly and honest and truthful and BAM! it hit me - I haven't been particularly friendly or honest or truthful lately. I haven't been a scathing, rioting jerk, but in truth, I have lost myself a little.
I'm not entirely sure why or when or where. My person has been hidden. Maybe to heal - but I think in part I've shoved it down in an effort to "grow" and "change". And I'm getting the idea that maybe having to shove down down your real personality means you're changing and growing for the wrong reasons.

I don't know why this bounce-back is occurring, but I feel inspired by my own self-worth and confidence. I'm in that sort of healthy-tigress mood. The kind where expression is all out and limitless. The kind of mood where artistic barriers are far beyond when you start to get embarrassed.
The kind of mood when you grab someones hand and pull them to the car where you will pick a random destination off a map - or better yet, drive without a map, endlessly and aimlessly.
The kind of mood where public affection is a good thing (a big deal for a prude like me, you know).
I'm in the kind of mood that gets your thrown out of public places for having too much fun - and then not caring about having been thrown out.
The sort of mood where energy is effortless and endless. That has you leaping off steps and dancing around trees and laughing to yourself.
The kind of mood where having a pebble stuck in your shoe is poetic.
I feel right now as though cliche romance is just the right thing - Beaches, cowboys and the whole shebang. I feel like I could cry at beautiful things and be happy to be crying because it makes the beauty that much more real. I feel like dancing in a field on Midsummer's night. I feel like laughing, damnit - the good kind of laugh that makes you look like a complete idiot because you can't control it. I feel like reading a Jane Austen novel out loud in a British accent. I feel like living on an island where the most important choice I have to make is which flower to pin to my hair. I feel like singing softly. I feel like sitting in so-and-so's shoulder for hour and just smelling them. I feel like seeing so-and-so smile. I feel like dancing to a drum circle. I feel like I could burst into flames, or laughter or joy or something.
If you gave me a piano, I could finish writing a song. I actually feel as though writing a romance novel would be a good idea. One that I can read on the beach, in a hammock, on the grass, by the fire, and all the good reading places.

2:21 am
Oh god! Where is the sleep!? Pen has not lifted from paper. My brain just keeps going and going and going and going. Where is the sleep?
The sleep is over that mountain I want to hike over, after those nights I want to spend watching the stars, down that road I want to travel first. Sleep, it seems, is a long way off. The moment is too beautiful. The inky pen, the soft blankets, the thumping rain, the ticking clock, the deep breathing of so-and-so, the whirring of the fish tank. It all seems too beautiful to miss.
I'm such a fast person, I always miss moments. Why skip over this tingly feeling with sleep when I can share it with someone silently to enjoy later.
I hope you are enjoying it.
I hope it reminds you of all the things it feels like - Of the smell of new books, of a scratching quill, of driving fast, of grass on bare feet, of pasta - fresh pasta, of lanterns and tea and soft couches and long conversations and fireplaces and poetry and long, soft hair, of spoken words and quiet moments and inspirations and skies.
These are all the things this feels like.
I think that the feeling I am feeling may very well be life itself.
Oh, strange.
But so beautiful.

I love, I love so much and so strongly. It's.... a lot of love. I feel much love at this moment, and peacefulness. I think my emoticoaster is winding down.
2:40ish am has me drooping at the lids and feeling peaceful. Sleep is getting closer now. I will enter it with all the sensations I have felt tonight in my mind. In my soul.
I feel as though I have partaken in some kind of spiritual cleansing ceremony that has left me fresh and soft.
Goodnight, love. Thank you for always stopping to read my poetic meanderings. Sometimes, the listener is the very best medicine, and in this case my tired mind seems to have prescribed you.

Love always,
G

How's that for optimism?