samedi, février 28

die in your dreams, falling on your knife

Last night I did the thing I do where I wake up and have to pee so do and then get a drink and then can't fall back to sleep. I lay awake for god knows how long, trapped in a reverie of bad memory.

It never ceases to amaze me how the razor sharp edge of bad experience is always so close to the surface of your consciousness when you lie awake in the night.

In any case, when I did fall back to sleep I couldn't shake the dis-ease and so my dreams were turbulent. I awoke feeling shredded, lost, alone, on the verge of ... something I can't seem to articulate.

The architect has to work for a while today and I don't really want to be here by myself. He procrastinated his departure (as usual) even though I kept asking him to get it over with so that he could come back and we could do something.

Anything to shake me out of this headspace, or else I'm afraid I'll be in bed all day, all week, all year.