I exhaled slowly, letting my breath fall back, trickle down my back causing my spine to pop in multiple places.  My back leaned against the wall of my green bedroom.  Across the house, I could hear the phone ring, my mom answer.  I closed my eyes. My phone lights up with yet another text message.  I make no motion towards it.  My mother says my name out loud and I jump to attention.  Pausing, I close my eyes.  Inhale.  Exhale.

It would be strange to say I am thankful for this moment.  My back aches, my shoulders slouch.  It dawns on me that it’s probably over a hundred degrees outside.  My four-legged best friend (George) shifts in his sleep.  It’s nearly time to go for our walk/jog and far too hot.  I close my eyes again.

The shower curtain shrieks as it’s being drug across the metal bar in which it hangs.  I hear a soft whirr before water erupts form the faucet.  It hums a nice melody, softly, gently spilling.  One of my brothers is taking a shower.  My eyes are still shut.  I hear a gentle creek, followed by another.  Probably hot water turning on.  A sigh erupts from George’s chest.  My eyes are open.

To write is to be free.  Something I have not seriously done in a while.  The wicked rants I’ve typed out about idiocy and ignorance, I read only to find myself guilty of similar matters.  It is okay not to know everything.  It’s okay to still be learning. I adjust my seat, arcing my back to straighten it against the wall.   I sat for a while, questioning irony:  I had too much to write and not enough words.  I had too much to say it but not the means to say it.  My burgundy notebook sits next to me, it’s contents describing my observations and only these.  It has been a while since I have sat and thought.  Just thought.  My eyes are shut.

To be alone with your thoughts is different from anything else.  For so long I had been obsessed – overwhelmed with everything happening around me (and so fast!) that I’d forgotten that I too, could draw conclusions.  Could perceive things in a way that was my own.  It is only for so long that you can trek down the path of learning another person’s thought process until you feel lost.  Over and over, I’ve been told to stick with what you love, do what you love and everything else will fall into place.  When you are lost, search for your roots.  They will take you home.

I hear the last drops of water trickle down from the shower in the bathroom, next to my room.  The neighbor’s AC buzzing to life and the soft hum of voices erupting from the television across the house.

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