It’s 5 am and I am awake. As a college student, I’m questioning why my body decided this would be a good time to open my eyes. It may have something to do with the coffee I drank about 12 hours ago. As much as I like to pretend I have a caffeine tolerance, and though I drink multiple cups per day, anything past 5:00pm typically wires me for a good while. No matter what my body’s reasoning for being awake is, there is no fighting it. I try fighting it, but it only it heightens my awareness. There is no falling back asleep.
Still, I cannot just settle that merely coffee woke me. As I walked across campus last night with my friend, Cassidy, we talked about some personal essays we had recently written for class. We’d both wrestled with the genre in our own ways. I vented my inability to tap into a new aspect of vulnerability as I wrote my essay. For a genre that’s centered around honest and self-discovery this proved to be a bit of a roadblock. At one point I even said to Cass, “I don’t even know if there is anything hidden within me to write about at this point.”
Cass, being the good friend she is, called me out immediately. She pointed out that although it might feel true, it just meant the subject was deeper hidden than what I was letting myself access.
I cannot help but feel part of what woke me up that morning was that topic. Somewhere within me, that untouched idea yawned, and my creative subconscious felt it and shook my conscious-self awake.