It's three in the morning where I am now and you have no idea how much I miss this. I miss the nightly breeze, the silence in the dead of the night, the feeling of isolation; when you feel in power and control of absolutely anything but, then again, you really don't because you can't free yourself from the feeling of impulse and yearning to escape. That's because you can't--escape, you know, you just..can't.
I've been having these tingly throbs of thoughts at the back of my mind more frequent than what I would've liked. I just want an empty room with wooden shelves, parchments and books, a laptop, a wooden worktable, a Sheltie, a job that would grant me both freedom and the sense accomplishment but yet doesn't bind me to a single shelter all together. That would be nice.
It would make a nice escape but it just seems like a dream dreamt too far.
I have a feeling that I might post on here more than I'm supposed to.
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