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write!

Today, I received some bad news.

I can’t sleep, no matter how hard I try, but my body is exhausted.

I think of Christian Bale’s character in the Machinist.  I dread turning into that.

I’m lying here in my bed, sheets dutifully covering me almost to completion.  I look up.

Is this how it’s supposed to be?

Stress is rising, and I can’t let it happen.  So I write, I write, and I write.  I’ve finished a whole two books of my thoughts, my poems, my forced recollections…something I have not done in years.  This is something I haven’t had to do nor was I recommended to do in years.

There is too much to write here, and I don’t dare to transfer them.

My mind is racing, and I can’t sleep.

I have the day at my command, and I cannot turn off my thoughts.

Faces, lost photographs, snippets of moments, like frames out of a movie — and even then, not frames from important parts of a film, but out-takes!  I can’t turn off my mind.

Even as I sit and look at the monitor, I remember the interludes between conversations, the moments after the happiest moments.  Moments where emotions linger, just after meaningful words are spoken…

What a stupid thing to remember.

much later

I lost a photo in the cab a little while back.

I’m supposed to go into China if I manage to get out of here.  One day, I hope I will.  There is a suitcase there I must pick up, and there I might find some answers.

There are not enough hours in a day to get things done.   Being sleepless gives me more time than the average person, but I don’t have enough time to get everything done.

I’m lying down, and I’m so tired that I can’t sleep.

And i’m writing garbage.

Going to close my eyes.   I hope she doesn’t come in again to check on me.  I won’t be able to fall asleep if this is sleep coming for me.



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