#683

Drowsy. Things have been done. Things have been completed. I don’t know what I’ve done all day. It’s all blurry.

 

It’s a good feeling. A just letting go and spinning, it’s like a trust fall except I’m falling and no one’s there to catch me. Or maybe it’s me who’s catching me? 

Whichever. 

When I close my eyes I can hear my pulse, the flow in between my ears. Like a little hum you never notice except at night when everything is still and you’re away from the electric appliances that taint the darkness with their own noises. When I’m away from all that I can hear my pulse….hear my blood, hear my sound and my words. Some people in ages long past once said that at the very beginning there was a word, and that from words all things came. I never understood the logic. Unless what they mean by the word and the sound is the idea that spawns the fact, that cements that meaning in place to give something meaning, in which case it’s a fairly apt point of view. 

*twirls*

I feel fantastic. 

I wonder if that’s because I feel so, so lonely, a sort of counterweight to keep me from aching too much. It could be. My subconscious pushing back against the way I feel in an effort to coincide with what I’ve decided I want for myself. Seems the likeliest story. 

It’s strange, to ache and to be lonely and also be so high that I feel like I’m on drugs. 

Hum.

I’m going to bed. Sleep this off, all will be more forgotten in the morning.