It’s Oh-gods-o’clock, and my brain won’t shut up, because why would it when all you want is to sleep? I could get up and write in the journal that I’m currently drafting new material in, but I imagine I’ll then be too tired, and so will slink back to bed.
Instead my thoughts are churning through memories of loves and lovers – those who are, were, and never were; those who might be, could be, and never would be. It’s a fruitless exercise that I’m sure my subconscious has picked out purely to annoy me.
There’s nothing coherent or even salacious in these ruminations. There’s memories of how things have ended. There’s thoughts of who and what I miss. There’s regrets and should-haves, and what-ifs. There’s also a very runny nose, exasperation, and fragments of phrases of this blog post that have been clamouring to be written down for a good three or four hours now.
So fine: I’m letting the words out, pinning them to this virtual page. Let them sit here like the residue of a boiled-over saucepan and make no sense, except to anyone who has had a similar sleepless night at any point in their life; or possibly to anyone who might read themselves into it.
Thanks brain, it’s not like I was doing anything anyway.