My average for staying awake can lie anywhere from 12 - 3 in the morning. Only earlier on a tiring day, or when I have nothing better to do. It can be a struggle depending on the day. Some days it's just not enough to put everything down and call it a day.

So on those days, I stay awake for as long as I possibly can. And most days I don't win the war between myself and sleep. But I shut down the will to try after a few hours.

But I try.

Only so often do I actually succeed in abandoning my sleep for a day. But then the morning comes and I once again, become a groggy, tired, semi - functioning human being.

So...

Now what?

Well, I'm left with about 2 option: Sleep and don't sleep. One definitely seems more appealing then the other. Only because I'm willing to accept a challenge. Like staying up for the next 24 hours. But, we'll see how that works out.

It's gonna be some day.
Or something like that.

~April 6th, 2017~

I can only imagine what France is gonna be like. But the curiosity is definitely there. We leave one day, and fly into the next. And I would consider this some weird form of time travel.

Hours behind on some flights, hours ahead on the next. What a day, and it's not even over yet. But here I am, close to high haven once again. And nothing more to be done except wait.

But that's not exactly a bad thing. I can be patient for awhile. I can manage that.

At least for now.

So I'm not entirely sure when this flight crosses over into tomorrow. But I mean, is that really worth sleeping through?

Maybe, maybe not.

But I'll definitely attempt to pull off the world's worst "all nighter". It's worth a shot right? I mean, it's something to do.

So this flight may be the weirdest crossover between days. But that's okay with me. Only now, can I really understand the influence of time and flight and varying amounts of sleep.

Speaking of...

~April 6th, 2017~

Dear Yesterday,

Right now the panic is setting in to your body like the third wave of infection we didn't write poetry about. And let me tell you, the anxiety and stress with everything will subside throughout the flight.

Not a normal feeling of excitement or anything , but you feel the joy eventually. But for now, take my advice and relax a bit. Don't worry too much about what will happen once you get there.

Leave life in it's upside-down, unpredictable state. Give up some control.

I mean, I've forgotten what it's like to be above clouds. It seems so close to high haven and yet...

Still a long drop down.

And sure, I'm not really scared of falling from here. Just my thanatophobic tendencies. But in all honesty, I think I'm gonna be more scared of the people on this trip then the actual trip.

Only because of things like first impressions and my personal friend group staying together.

I can only hope that nothing goes wrong for us. And honestly, probably nothing will.

Optimism right?

~April 12th, 2017~

Some time between 8:00pm and 9:00pm in the street of Paris...

Imagine walking down the street with the best strawberry yogurt ice cream in the world. Seeing the street of starving artists in all different forms, like that one scene from a movie you saw years ago.

Seeing freehand artists drawing the faces of complete strangers, and the suddenly hearing music.

Hearing a complete strangers singing over classical guitar and not knowing if they were singing in english of french.

But I don't really care. Music has been and always will be a universal language.

So what more can you do about a starving artist?

Well there's  only so much you can do for a guy playing classical guitar in the middle of Paris.

So about 3 songs and €10 later, this artist's voice rings through the empty street. And somehow I become the starving artist, playing this guitar that doesn't belong to me.

And yet I play out like nobody is listening in.

Applause comes... and it goes...

I played one song to look up, and one song from here. All the while feeling the air pass through this street. The only thing left to do was pick up a name and a sappy french poem.

I shake his hand and come away from the street with a major music high. (Pun intended)

And I wasn't the only one on Cloud 9, the feeling shared by yet another music nerd.

And as we roam the streets of Paris singing the same lyrics from "La La Land", we feel complete for now.

And in  that moment...

I lived.

And there's nothing more I can really say other than...

How did we get here?

I'm picking up everything on the floor and dividing it up into piles.

Things to throw away.

Things to recycle.

Things that don't belong to me.

Things to preserve.

Things to hang up on my wall.

Things to reconsider how much I want them.

Things to stare at.

Things....

Things I don't want anymore.

Things that pain me to get rid of but I have to.

And I look at all the dust piling up around my room and I wonder how long it's been since I did something like this.

And yet... I still have to much work to do.

...That you don't hate me for what I wrote.

I have no other way.
I'm stuck here counting days.

What happened to me?