I have been conditioned to turn off my real self in daylight— to be productive, to work, to help, to go to bed at a reasonable hour. But lately I come alive at night, so I stay awake, write notes like, “I have been here all this time,” and “I know more than I let on.” I’m not sure who is writing, though it is most likely still me because I’ve been letting words run after dark with the rats and raccoons. The cat makes chase. Wild safari scenes unfold inside my fences. There are things I know that I can’t say when the sun is out. At night, though: freedom. At night, I write it down. I wake in the morning, read, can’t imagine what I was thinking, what on earth I could’ve meant.
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Ahhh Julie, I’ve got a backyard wild kingdom too. Let’s tear down the fences and let the beasts run wild!
WHOA ME TOO!