Sipping coffee in the semi darkness of pre-dawn with dim lights illuminating the quiet room. It’s only me, my thoughts, and my journal. I can hear every sound, even my breath. It’s foggy and wet outside, but it doesn’t feel morose, it feels beautiful to me, if beautiful was a feeling. There is time to think, and not to think. There is time to be inspired, to create, and to inspire.
I will not obsess anymore with people that are not real. My phone addiction is dying a slow but painful death. The only people real to me are the ones whose voices I hear or whose faces I see. I’ll notice things around me again, all the little things. Things that are not inside my phone.
A phone is a thing. It’s not alive. It does not breath. Stop breathing your life into it.