Well, here I am. A few days late, as usual. I have finally made time to write.
Actually, it wasn’t intentional. I am curled up in bed, sort of unable to sleep. I was drowsy when I first ventured into the bed but laying here in silence let all the ideas flood in. Of course, picking up my phone to write on the blog just opened the gates to even more ideas.
Over the past few days, the silence has been that moment when I simply cave to my body’s demand for sleep. Right now, I’d say that demand has fucked off for a while. It’s too quiet. And I am too warm one minute and too cold the next.
Admittedly, the darkness is not matched by complete silence. The clock ticking in the corner is consistent and in a way reassuring. I don’t think I could stand the silence – especially not after being home all day. It would drive me up the proverbial wall.
And yet, something is missing. Even as the cursor flashes on and off frantically, I can’t seem to find the words for it.
Switching on the light, the room is still as it was before. Nothing has moved, in spite of my imagination’s efforts to build monsters and break dreams. Well, almost nothing.
The ticking clock persists.
The mind wonders in the silence. The street outside is suddenly quite busy, cars racing up and down it; I can hear them cutting through the puddles.
Considering it’s 2am on a weekday, I should be asleep and it should be silent. Then again, I have no particular incentive to get up early, so why not stay awake? After all, there is alcohol in the fridge – that would be a great way to warm up.
Anyhow, time to wait for another visit by Morpheus (Greek god of sleep – not the Matrix character). I grow weary, mainly of my own bullshit. Maybe it is better this way.