sometimes i lie awake at night wishing i could see the stars but realizing that there is comfort and protection, security and abundance in having a roof over my head, one with no cracks. i think about the people who don’t have the luxury of a roof. they probably look at the stars and wish they couldn’t see them, probably wish they were looking up at a painted white ceiling. people always seem to want what they don’t have. do i want the stars? do i want simplicity? i like to think about myself in a place with no roof. or a roof with cracks. a place where discomfort awakens true humanity and the precious fragility of life is so tangible you can taste it. where people live each day to the fullest because it very well could be their last. where family means sacrificing, loving and caring for each other. where superficiality is not even an option and life is real.