2004-12-31
...Of Pale Skin And Glazed Eyes 'Neath Heavy Lids

Back shoved up against the kitchen cabinets, legs sprawled across the kitchen floor with The Cure in my headphones, my kitten by my side, and a gaudy plastic magnet in my hand. I balance the magnet back and forth across my hand, tossing it away and retrieving it again, teasing the kitten then yielding to him his desired toy.

I meditiate on singular thoughts. The happy appearance of my father's checkbook and stamps in my mother's car and the frustration of having them so close when I needed them most, the unhappy disappearance of our mailman, what a pathetic adult I'm going to be at the rate I'm going, and perhaps a fleeting reflection on Don Quixote and Sancho Panza.

Or maybe I'm just lost in songs I've listened to a hundred times over but still haven't gotten tired of.

And I'm happier than I've been in such a long time.

Peaceful and content.

But there are pieces missing which cause barely audible sighs to flow from my lips.

And at the same time that everything feels almost complete, and the thought that maybe it would be if you were by my side, I feel myself drift away. Reality dissipates like a mist before my eyes as I detach from everything and everyone. No one seems real. I lose the fact that people I've never touched actually exist. I forget that even I exist.

And the bags under my eyes and the transparency of my complexion betray that my ailment is fatigue.

I never mean to sleep as little as I do, but I do regardless. My body's desire for rest catches me in a complacent limbo between my conscious and unconscious self.

I'll jolt up from the kitchen floor.

Just a little tired. My eyelids are just a little too heavy. I'll offer the kitten the magnet again, and smile at his clumsiness...

before & & after