What you see when your brain slows down.

Today there was a moment between 7 and 7:30 AM. I was sunken into my depression, lying on my backyard stoop, wearing an over sized cardigan and nothing else, beneath a 5 dollar Old Navy blanket. This moment was meaningless in every other place around me (assuming no one was shooting anyone around me), but for me this was a grand beauty. Never have I seen the world as such a beautiful place. Never did I love so much.

The clouds were patterned. Those 30 minutes were also the rare 30 minutes of the morning where no one on my street is walking to their cars and starting their engines. It was silence all but the few birds chirping. I remember seeing pigeons on the roof behind my house, and they were beautiful. I hate pigeons, but I thought these particular set of two were miraculous. My dogs were still half asleep nudging and licking at my body, not knowing to avoid the cigarette. And the cigarette was beautiful! It's smoke was eerie and mysterious, making trails in the air. If it could burn longer, it may have asked me to follow its trails to somewhere even more beautiful than my backyard stoop. One dog kissed my face, and it was like the love you feel on ecstasy.

I've never been the type of person with the "reach for the sky" kind of attitude. But today, I reached my hand up, and tried to touch the fucking sky. Only problem is I realized why I never tried before: I knew I couldn't do it. I failed. I was depressed again. And the beauty was lost.