Play || ＞
When it comes to play without intent or purpose, it’s something I’ve lost touch with, slipped between the couch cushions and coffee stained dishes. Play doesn’t hold nearly as much meaning to me as it probably should. Instead it’s something lost to the blanket forts I made when I was young. I wish I knew what happened, if there was some way I could get that back. I’d be happy with just a sliver. I can’t help but ask where I put that sense of love and wonder. It’s around here somewhere I know it, I’ve seen it, I can picture it so clearly in my head.
Instead, here I am, looking at the ceiling, wondering why my brain won’t work in all the ways I need it to. When did my heart and head split in two like this? It’s like trying to fall asleep, that the more I try and make it the harder it is to fall. I want to fall. I need to fall. I need something inside me to come back and grow. And so, why is this fire so hard to light, why does it have to be a choice, and such a choice at that. If everyone else seems to be able to do it, so should I.
Right?

PLAY

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