“What is it that wakes you up in the morning?”

This is the question that I have recently been asked. I usually can come up with a legitimate answer. Ya know, one that is inspiring and can help other people develop purpose to motivate themselves to get out of bed. Theses past few months have put me into a deep and empty hole, a hole that keeps getting deeper and wider. This hole is my bed. Sometimes I can’t get out of it. I will lay helplessly for two hours. I look at my ceiling. I analyze the contrast of the sunshine seeping through my curtains. I roll over and see the multiple beer bottles on my side table. Then,  I notice my worst enemy but my best friend, my phone. I then lay in bed longer as  I passively stroll through every social media platform under which posses a username and password. Facebook. Instagram. Twitter. Snapchat.

Repeat. Facebook. Instagram. Twitter. Snapchat.

Oh yeah, I forgot that I owned a tumblr. Facebook. Instagram. Twitter. Tumblr. Snapchat.

I agressivly scroll, mindlessly stalk, and enviously research people. It isn’t healthy. It isn’t helping me.

This was me for three months. I enjoyed feeling like a lazy person. I became comfortable in my own self-pitty. Until I was asked that loaded yet simple question. What in the hell do I get up for???


11 days ago I had the fricken honor to be apart of Lady Gaga’s ARTrave tour in Las Vegas. Cheslea, my sister by choice, bought me a ticket back in February. My limited library of music for the first half of the year, that I obsessivley listened to, was Disco/Funk or Gaga. Gaga’s entire ArtPop album helped me develop a understanding of her as well as making me feel like a badass mother fucker when I needed it most.

Let’s be real, Gaga, Chelsea, the people, the vodka, all made me accumulate tears that were shed four times during the entire performance. Holy Gaga, did it feel great. I can’t tell you what happened or what it was that she said, but  I can tell you that she made me feel. I felt her words penetrate my existence like a caterpillar breaking through to be a butterfly. Gaga made me feel like I have wings. Holy shit, I know that I can fly.

Gaga taught me what it means to feel. Sometimes you cannot remember what someone told you or what someone did to you but you will always remember how someone made you feel. On the occasion you cry for no reason, (like what I am doing right now), or you have no answer for anger, or why you feel silliness, you want an answer but there is no reason to find it, we just have to take refuge in respecting what it means TO FEEL. 

Gaga’s final song for her performance, her end to my emotional roller coaster, is my favorite song from the ArtPop album. From the moment that I heard this son, I adopted it’s lyrics to reflect me and someones story.  The song is called, “Gypsy”. 

The beginning goes a little something like this;

“Sometimes a story has no end,
Sometimes I think that we could just be friends.
‘Cause I’m a wandering man, he said to me.
And what about our future plans?
Does this thing we have even make sense?
When I got the whole world in front of me.
So I said,
I don’t wanna be alone forever, maybe we could see the world together.
I don’t wanna be alone forever, but I can be
So, I just packed my baggage and
Said goodbye to family and friends.
And took a road to nowhere, on my own.
Like Dorothy on the yellow brick,
Hope my ruby shoes get us there quick.
‘Cause I left everyone I love at home.
And I don’t wanna be alone forever, but I can be tonight.
I don’t wanna be alone forever, but I love gypsy life.
I don’t wanna be alone forever, maybe we could see the world together.
I don’t wanna be alone forever, but I can be

This song, theses words, the existence of the beat and her voice have made “Gypsy” be the most important song for me. I have the spirit of a gypsy. As I fall asleep at night, I am okay with being alone, but I don’t wanna be alone forever.


Since I have seen Gaga, I have been having some wild dreams. Colorful and busy. My memory of these’s dreams only paint the most gorgeous of views. I am somewhere, anywhere around the world. I never see landmarks, I just feel the difference in culture. I can feel a swarm of a people wherever I go.

In theses dreams, I am with someone. I know it is a male figure because I can sense a very masculine presence yet he is vulnerable, just like me. I can never see his face. He is with me at times but absent in others. He is like a phantom, a secret, or maybe just a desire.

This person makes me feel alive. Whenever I am with him, the sky is orange and the existence of  people seem to be more reserved. It seems as if he is the only person that I want to learn about since everyone is holding tight to themselves.

I will call this person, “Him”.

“Him” and I are sitting in a high energy area. There are people walking to and from their desired destinations. The sun dances brightly behind him. I naturally am disabled of seeing his face due to the shadows being cast. However, I find comfort in not identifying who he is. He asks me question’s and challenge’s me to speak what I think. Most importantly, he is an incredible listener. He listen’s and is impacted by what I think.

Him asks me, “How do you want to go see places?”

I squint confused at what he wants to understand. Maybe he wants to know how I want to travel? Like by automobile, train or airplane? I didn’t understand as to why he wanted to know how I want to “see places”.

I respond confidently, “Well, I guess I don’t have a preference of what style that I will see places. I am more concerned of how I see the places.”

There is more tension between Him and I now. I feel a pull towards him. His right hand gently touches my left knee and my heart starts to sink deeper into my back.

He asks, “Tell me your deepest concern of how you want to see the places.”

I undoubtedly speak, “I hope that wherever I go, I can get lost.”

The sky is turning sensually and slowly from blue, to purple and back to orange. As the sky flutters into it’s unnatural metamorphosis, I focus on Him in hope to see an outline of his nose or the shape of his eyes, or for goodness sakes, his lips.

The sky is back at orange. I continue, “I hope that I can get lost wherever I go because getting lost is the only way you can see things for yourself. You can taste, smell and hear the places better when you are lost because your senses require you to pay attention. You see the truth in cultures, in people and in yourself. I want to get lost. I, right now- am lost.”

His hand still sits gently on my knee and he speaks up to ask, “Can I please get lost with you, Danika?”

B-A-M, everything changes! The sky goes apeshit. Blue. Purple. Yellow. Back to orange. Red. Pink. Green. Then gorgeous hues that I have never seen before, light up the sky. I can’t see anything, expect for theses unidentified hues and my unidentified “Him”. All at once, the sky turns black. All is still. All is gone, emptied, and void. I can’t feel anyone, or anything except “Him”.  I still feel “Him”.

I am awake now. I open my eyes and see my blonde hair pup looking into my eyes. I think, “how in the hell did you get into my room, you little shit?”Then he kisses me and I kiss him back.

I feel refreshed.  I should feel hungover but I am not. I feel happy. The happiest of happy. It is because of “Him”. I want to get lost by myself; and to one day, be lost with “Him”.

So I ask myself, “What is it that wakes me in the morning?”

TO FEEL. I want to feel good and bad. I want to feel dangerous and light. I want to see Gaga again, I want to see places. I want to feel Him.

TO FEEL HOPE. Hope in knowing that I can see this world by getting lost.  I can lose myself with my own natural desires to find adventure. The hope in knowing that “Him” wants to get lost with me and that I can one day see his beautiful face. Face to face, the sky can be blue, orange or black, the culture can be alive or lost but the love will be real.

What gets me out of bed, is to lose myself and to feel the world, and to look forward to the day where “Him” and I can get lost together.


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