when your heart won't let you sleep, it has to mean something. for the past couple of nights, its either really hard for me to sleep or I've been waking up in the middle of the night. I'm not quite sure why. I do have a feeling of anxiety tho. I don't know if it is because I'm so close to going home, or because I'm leaving a place I have come to call home.
today it hit me the hardest. I woke up a little bit before 5am, just before the sun rise, when the morning seems so fresh with a hint of orange coming up in the horizon, the roosters crowing, and all the birds singing their morning songs. I swung on my hammock, with a cup of cold water thinking it could calm my heart. its the in between time. between sleep and wake. when last night's events slowly catch up to you, contemplation about things said, and feelings felt. when it gets all to much to bear, and you know you can't go back to bed, what did i decide to do? ride my bike.
there's something about early mornings that give one's soul a kind of peace. riding on empty streets, that as the sky gets brighter, people slowly wake to sweep their front yards, feed their chickens, warm up their jeepneys, or start opening up their small shops. there's something about the nice light too. how it hits the pavement or the wooden houses with a soft orange glow, or how it reflects in the puddles that i love passing my wheels right through leaving a trail of a contemplating bike rider. it's early morning when the sun doesn't beat down on you, but gently kisses your skin, slowly waking up your senses.
Awake.
After watching the hint of orange take shape into an orange ball, I turned around, and backtracked passing by the puddles I splashed through, and the streets that seemed to be more awake. Thinking that I could just exhaust myself back to sleep, I headed to my bedroom, only to have my restless heart beat more heavily. My heart is trying to tell me something, and I could only draw it out through writing, typing, reflecting...
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