I love driving these empty streets in the hours that are caught somewhere between late and early. When the moon is still out but you know that soon the sun will be bringing life back to the empty Avenue. I love seeing the people, who much like myself, drive to escape the reality that has overtaken them. Or seeing the lonely drifter who is now alone in his element and who is comforted by the sounds of the nightlife. My soul is crushed for those who, again much like myself, find themselves heartbroken and lost. Or who believe that they can find themselves at the bottom of the bottle. It is at this time, when the streets are damp with dew and the whole world seems to be almost still, that I seem to find my own peace, perhaps only for a moment, but for that moment I am one with myself and the world around me and nothing else seems to matter. It is here, on the empty streets, in the hours that are lost between the classified night and morning that I ponder who I am, and what my significance is. It is here that I question my very existence. It is here that I wonder if I am good enough. It is here that I wonder if you still care for me. It is here that I find some peculiar element of peace that shall rest my wandering, worried mind.
(via findingdick-o)
