short

It really upsets me that when I sit at my desk I can't quite see over the window ledge. Because there are thousands of lights cast from the city, blurred by the rain on the window, and little lights hovering in pairs back and forwards along the motorway. And this is one of the most beautiful sights I know of.

Other beautiful things:
the mug stains all over my wooden table
people looking
sounds of cars moving from behind me to before me
staying up all night
not needing to sleep
marked people
eating eight mini cholocate muffins and four cheese ones
washing my make-up off after feeling floaty all night
seeing someone fall asleep the wrong way in the bed
driving long distances early in the morning
driving at night with friends
driving alone at night with music and knowing something is going to happen
the smell of chai tea when I open the cupboard
notebooks full of someone's handwriting
anything flawed
realizing something I always knew but didn't understand
hearing a song I knew when I was younger and haven't heard since
being indecisive
hands, wrists, hip bones, collar bones, inside elbows
learning a new word
finding old school books
courageous acts (on other peoples' behalves)
vulnerability
a blank page
bedside lamps
walking down the middle of a road when there are no cars
being sure of what you are saying
thinking
someone concentrating on something difficult
dimly-lit photos
seeing faces up close of people you know well
sitting on dangerous window ledges
remembering

Something is missing