When I was younger

I would set an alarm for four in the morning

because I knew no one else would be awake

I wanted to own my decisions without influence

 

I would wake up at four in the morning and I would ask myself,

Is this the day?

I always wondered when it was the right time, if there was ever a right time

I would look at the counter, the bottles strewn across the shelves, of every variety

wondering what the correct combination was

knowing that if I chose the incorrect combination, 

I would not longer get to spend four am’s by myself

 

I would stare at them for hours, pondering the thought

wondering if there was a better day to make this choice

But is there ever a correct time to decide when it’s time?

 

Sometimes, I would try a few

just to see what it was like to come close to that time

and my mind would be foggy for the following hours

attempting to decide if it should stay present or if it should put itself to rest

and my bed would become a beacon of passage into the other side

over and over and over again

would I see the light

 

I would play Coldplay songs, over and over again

hoping that maybe I would find a lyric that would change my mind or make things better

and I never did

but somehow, I never felt like running towards the light

 

There was always this gut feeling when I chanced a minor combination

that there was something worth holding out for

that there was something in the lyrics of Coldplay’s music that would 

guide me out of this obligatory dance I did with my mind every early morning

There had to be hope for something, there had to be hope for something

 

And one day, the shelves no longer had an appeal

and my bed no longer felt safe enough to test waters no one knew

and a lyric from one of Coldplay’s songs told me to carry on.

 

So I did. 

 

The four am dancing discontinued and I never looked at the pale prescription shelves again

and when I am in my darkest of states, 

I remember the feelings of lightly touching the other side, 

knowing that maybe, it isn’t quite time to finish the samba I had with the unknown. 

At least not on my terms

 

There is always hope

always hope to continue dancing with what is known. 

 

This piece has been published on Thought Catalog. You can view the published version here

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