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On the edge of my 26th year of life, I look back and realize that I never sought after sympathy. Even in the few times when sympathy did show its crestfallen face, I seemed to politely reject it. Moments of sympathy were for me, reserved for proper situations such as: tearful or solitary moments, comforting the grief-stricken, the gravely ill or circumstances that may seem insurmountable. I suppose moments like these are what leads any individual to a point in their life, and maybe those moments are what led me here; the grief, the sympathy, the anger, frustration and times of pure elation. Though all of it I found a small slice of peace and comfort.

When I write, it is many times 3:13 in the morning. The writing usually consists of my style of expressing subtle, uplifting messages which I have collected through difficult times in my brief 25 years life; I understand there is nothing special about my being, or the love for my craft of writing but like music, literature and writing was there when no human could be found- so we became close friends. Again, my words are not to seek for sympathy, or to vent- but for someone who is having a difficult time of their own and may require an uplifting message. I always pray that the person who needs these words takes the time to sees them and feels them, instead of simply reading them, as these words are brief pieces of my soul. Money is no object when it comes to these words that are formed at 3:13. 3:13 is a lot of the time, my fourth hour of sleep and like these words, sleep is for someone else. I awake with ideas and thoughts from past times in my life; both the great times and the most unfortunate of times. It is never a struggle to think of writing these thoughts down somewhere; it is a formed habit and my laptop or phone serve as the pen and paper. The thoughts that I have upon awakening usually fall away, as the blank page presents itself on my laptop, only for the same thoughts to slowly return to my mind as soon as the first letters spill onto the page. There is a peace to this “method of madness.” The room is dark and the screen is bright; many times too bright. My eyes soon adjust to the light. Summer brings sounds of singing crickets and silence, while most people are asleep, while the winter holds the silence much better as the crickets become nonexistent.

I find it hard to sleep for longer than 4 to 5 hours. Sometime the mind seems to not desire rest but, the body absolutely requires rest. Are these faculties not of a mutual symbiotic connection? At 3:13 I feel like a king. Everything is in my control; absolute control is the technique of 3:13. There are no fears or worries, only anxious thoughts that need to fly out of my mind in some way, though never through the mouth. Aside from the fingers, there is no movement, only stillness. As if there was any tension in the room, one could cut through the air like it was a loaf of bread, at 3:13. There are no outside voices to influence the thoughts, only that of my own, which lives in my head. I write down and control these thoughts consuming my mind with the accuracy of a tenured pilot landing an airplane; piece of cake.

I think 3:13 and I were always meant to be close friends; even before my body’s disconnection from what we collectively know as “normal.” It seems as though it always shows up when I need it, 3:13. Everyone should find a 3:13 of their own. It is through divine intervention, how you will find your 3:13. When you look for it, it will be looking for you; what you seek, it seeking you. 3:13 and your personal being will bring to one another, peace of mind and a moment and feeling of total control and comfort, which follows your first encounter. The encounter will reoccur many times and will match your lifestyle and purpose. Your 3:13 will be for you and only you. I truly pray that you find your 3:13.

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