Bookmark #139

Sometimes, I couldn’t fall asleep because of all the possibilities. I’d lay in my bed, looking out at the dark sky from between the curtains in my bedroom. I’d look at it with an odd sort of excitement.

I was so genuinely excited for another day that sleep just wouldn’t come. I’d be giddy, thinking about all that I could do in life. There was so much to do!

It was overwhelming — the possibility of life. The possibility that exists as long as we’re here, breathing. The possibility of the human potential, that remains there until tapped into.

I’d think about all the things that remained undone. I would look at the plant by the window sill and remember how one day, after four months of consistent watering without any visible results, it decided to grow out on its own.

I remarked, “”How did you do that in a day?”” It made me wonder with almost childlike awe: how amazing it is that even when something isn’t visible, a change, some growth, is always afoot? As long as we kept doing what we needed to do, we kept growing.

One day, it would all start to show just like the plant. Then, a bystander, looking at you for the first time, would remark, “”How did you do that in a day?”” And you’d reply, “”Oh, very easily. You see, I stared by staring out my window every night.”” You’d chuckle, remembering all those nights you couldn’t sleep.

All of that would come later though if it ever does, and I couldn’t care less. All I could care about was the next day, and the possibility of all that I could do in this life, all that I could leave behind. The human potential was so vast and inspiring that to think of anything less was an insult to everyone that came before.

There was, frankly, so much to do!

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