The happy place

hello guess what? I’m on the train again. This time brightly illuminated pale fields of wheat and pine tree forests are zipping by along with a handful of red houses haphazardly scattered like raisins in a müsli

It’s always nice to come home. I felt disoriented when I woke up this morning in the apartment. A disappointment settling inside as I learned where I was.

I think mornings can be harsh, because there’s always a brief moment when you have a clean slate, and as the state is loaded back into the brain, the disappointments and failures briefly forgotten, are reexperienced.

Of course there are good things loaded with the context too, like waking up for the first time next to someone you love etc

Life itself is indeed like a müsli, but sometimes there’s shit in it.