Waking up, slightly hungover
I was filled with a strange enthusiasm:
I exist, I said, I exist in this world at this time.
I can go out there, get up, do things. I can create, I can feel.
I've got a body and I've got a brain.
I can do anything I want to do.
I still haven't done anything, I am new, what I know is never enough. I will go out there and explode.
And if I won't achieve what I want, then I will still be able to BE, to survive, to wander around ( like a cloud, oh) to exist and be surprised, everyday, by the mere fact of existence, by my body, by other people's stories, by all the mysteries yet to be discovered.
This is what came to my mind as I was awakening, slightly hungover, this morning.