The rain woke me up this morning. I love the sound of water beating against the windows when I’m in bed. Like I’m somewhere it wants to be. Whether I’m falling asleep or waking up, it makes me feel lucky to be wrapped up warm in bed with Jared snuggled in behind me. Of course then I never want to get up because it’s too cosy but for those few moments – before I fall asleep or before I need to get up – I feel like I’m in the world’s biggest cocoon where nothing can touch me and nothing can hurt or bother me.
Logic would then follow that, if I’m in a cocoon, I must be a caterpillar or a cicada or something. Wait, do cicadas have cocoons? No, I think they just shed their shells. Ok so a caterpillar then, which must mean that, when I finally get out of bed, I’m a butterfly. Well, I don’t feel much like a butterfly today. One of those tiny, grey moths perhaps, the ones that, when you touch them, leave a speckling of grey powder on your hand like a person’s ashes. Easily one of those but certainly no butterfly. Can’t get too down on moths though. Even they serve a purpose, even if I’m not quite sure what.
Wow, what a random post this has been. Rain, cocoons and moths. I need to get the fuck out of my own head for awhile. Things are getting weird.
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