I went to bed in the worst possible way. I went to bed thinking. You know what I mean - I was trying to switch off but my brain just kept ticking over.
I was thinking about emails I need to send, blog posts I could write, many productive things for the day time when I'm infront of a keyboard - they might have even paused my compulsive Amazon buying.
I'd be annoyed that I couldn't sleep but for the fact that I actually came to a conclusion. I loved somebody. It was hard but true.
It has probably been more than a year since we've spoken. But when she popped into my head I realized that I wanted to know how she was, if everything was ok. We did not part well at all, but it would seem that I still care for her.
I'm writing this by hand on a train - I'd almost forgotten my last thoughts before sleep by the time breakfast came around this morning, so I haven't yet sent her the email I was half writing in bed - I'm writing to my blog instead, simply to try and recover those thoughts I think.
As I look out the window its so misty that all I can see are ghosts, the world is totally washed out, obscured. I don't expect to get a reply from her, I don't expect I've crossed her thoughts at all, we'll see.
I'm in another city, with another life but ghosts of my past are haunting me.
Your common sense is nothing more than the voices of thousands and thousands of these ghosts from the past. Ghosts and more ghosts. Ghosts trying to find their place among the living.
from "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance" by Robert Pirsig.