It isn’t quite five in the morning. It is still dark. All of the people and cats in the house except for me are still very asleep.
Yet here I am, typing, very awake, and rocking myself back and forth on my tattered black couch because that unknown something made me toss and turn all night long until I finally knelt in defeat and came down here to get away from it and maybe start a good day, that will end in rest and comfort and relaxation.
There is football on today, then again I went to bed at seven last evening, right as the game we wanted to watch all day came on because I couldn’t see very well through the pain. I looked at the score of the game every time I woke up, getting more and more upset that I was missing the game and the team I wanted to win was doing just that.
I rolled over and over on my bed, smashing my head into the wall, and then onto the floor, from left to right, once or twice top to bottom. Not nightmares, nothing so grandiose as to be given form and substance, just me, lost inside my head, trying so very hard to see light when all the dark around me was like ink I was drowning in, coating me more and more as the minutes went by.
I did not win, it spat me out, uncooked and not quite ready to be devoured and left me to marinate and stew on my failures another day so it could try again tonight as I lay there and think in shifts, count until my fingers hurt, multiply and square numbers in my head, anything that will keep my mind focused and not let it drift, not let it be caught in that drain I know is just below me.
So I came down here, turned on the lights that wouldn’t wake up the baby and sat down and opened my computer, because, well, that’s what I do. I lose myself here and focus on the minutiae of code and slowly my breathing takes on a semblance of what it should be, takes on a whisper of what I used to be.
I simply breathe, and wait.
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