I am not really in a writing mood, but I promised myself I would try to write today, so here is the effort.
The last week has been really bad if I can be a lot more honest than I would rather be. My emotions, ever the most stable of things, are gone in a lot of places I am pretty sure they should be and are present in places they have never been before and it is an unpleasant thing, sifting through yourself to see if there is anything that you did while you may or may not have been away mentally.
I get no sleep, nearly none at least. I lay there and read century-and-a-half old stories about Allan Quartermain, Tarzan, Conan, and my beloved Dumas. I stare at my phone for hours on end and there is nothing even close to fatigue that comes. Eventually, I force myself to put the phone down and I close my eyes and eventually, some sort of torpor comes over me I suppose. I wouldn’t call it sleep as much as it is a general reset to default settings that needs to happen daily.
I am sitting here now listening to My Own Summer by the Deftones over and over again. The music so loud I can feel it in my teeth. It is a rest in a way, making me not think thoughts I don’t want to think and instead focus on the song, the lyrics, and the guitar, the screaming, and the angst that was their signature.
Now, now I will stop writing because I simply don’t have it in me today.
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