Thursday, September 18, 2003

Insomnia. I.n.s.o.m.n.i.a. Wide eyed, with brain on high alert; detecting foreseeable causes of possible stress and unsolicited anxiety. Hearing the rhythmic click and whirr, click and whirr of our ceiling fan. Wondering about everything. Resolving nothing. Left side . Roll. Right side. Toss. No point in staying in bed. No point in lying there thinking up new things to dread.

Diego, The Cat in The Bag, was sleeping at my feet. And when he began to vigorously bathe himself between his toes, and I could hear his tongue roughing up his fur, in eager pursuit of some traveling itch or errant dust bunny, then I could stand it no more. I left my bed, and the darkness of night. I came to the computer and sat down to write. I got the first paragraph down, and then I had nothing more to add. Just as when I was lying in bed, irritating, sad thoughts began to creep back in to my head. I felt the loneliness of a long and sleepless night. I tried to imagine the feeling of confident contentment. I realized that tension and self doubt, feels very much the same as hunger (profound, yet annoying insight.) And just when sleepy, doubtful, self awareness became more than I cared to endure, Diego came to the room, to sleep at my feet. Not much has changed, but he looks up at me, and I feel a little comfort.

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