Dancing with no song to dance to

Hello again. I have this pain in my lower back from having slept just over 10 hours. It's been a long time since I've slept for a while, and I sure needed it. Mornings have become precious to me, the full day ahead of me is a wonderful feeling and today, well, today I've lost that morning and I suppose that's okay. The past month or so has been an on-going battle with lists of things to do. Needless to say, I never painted that desk knob gold. But it all seems to be coming to an end. And I suppose I feel a sad relief, a nervousness about what is to come, yet an excitement and joy for it all to arrive. There's things that I want and I seem unable to have them. Instead, I trap myself by doing things, having things, that sort of just fill in the time, the space, what I think is meant to happen. I feel like I live the motions in many ways and when I find myself with a little window of time to contemplate it all and make changes, I fill it with something just to quieten the uncertainty and the honesty of it all. And I forget it all. It's hard to explain and to even accept because in many ways, I have a beautiful life. I think I'm just growing tired of life, of how the days blend into each other and how I seem incapable of changing the way I move. I want to dance without there having to be a song to dance to. I want to remember the 12th March or the 24th November, or that random Tuesday last week, because I decided to lift a paintbrush and stroke it against a canvas, or sit in the garden and finish that book, or take a walk down under the moonlight even after dinner, and skip or jump of crab walk or roll in the grass. I say that but all I really want is to own the moment. I want to feel it, and finally realise that it does not own me. Because it does. There is so much to be grateful for. I love how every time I write grateful, I really write greatfull, because it's about being filled with great things. Finding greatness in everything. Is it not? And so I'll leave it here for today. Now, I'll cry a little in the shower so I can feel a sense of relief, finally text my dad after months so I can stop crying in films when the word father is mentioned, do what I was meant to do today and do a little something unexpected, so that I get a sense of accomplishment. What will you do with the last few hours of the day?

Much Love,
Sofia