I’ve had a night of those horrible, fitful dreams that leave you exhausted and uncomfortable. It’s 5:20 am, las madrugadas. Birds have just started singing, or rather, I’ve just noticed birds singing. Birdsong is a strange name for it, because ofcourse it’s not lyrical or melodious at all. It’s too urgent sounding, it’s too desperate. I gave up on sleep about an hour ago, so I was trying to learn some Spanish. Normalmente durmo a pierna suelta, pero la noche pasada tuve suenos malos. Spanish is the bane of my life, and my primary indulgence now that art has just become another task on a list of things to do. I need to be fluent in it. I just need to be.
I went out for a meal last night with some people from school, close friends and good aquaintences. The food was unpleasant and overpriced, but the restaurant was quite empty so they let us sit and talk for years and kept refilling our drinks after we’d finished pudding. Sometimes, times like last night, I realise what I’m going to miss about being sixteen. Being so young, and so cocky, and so convinced that we are invincable. I find it difficult to believe in death.
Tags: Birdsong, Sleepless nights, Spanish, Youth
