Last night I plowed through my writings and chose a few to share. Here is my first installment:----
This is a different sort of tired needing a different sort of sleep. A sleep I cannot find yet. I have a heart that won't dance, a preposterous self-loathing. A miracle workers hands which nothing comes out of. Nothing is formed, no self-admiration, nothing made with these hands. Types on lettered keys, X and O from lip to cheek, done tongue in cheek. My chewed up tongue from animal instinct.
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Yesterday I took a shower before noon. I went to the grocery. I cleaned out some of our pantry. I took a nap. I cried at night about my lack of energy. I did a load of laundry out of necessity. My most successful day in weeks. Today I will do some more laundry, change the bed sheets, finish organizing the pantry.
Wish me better, wish me will, wish me luck.
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