it's too late

I don't know why I'm still up. Residual caffiene, one cigarette, just my own nervous pace. We played mah-johngg for a little while before everyone else decided to go to bed.

Me, I'm still sitting here. Listening to an old old mix tape of Skinny Puppy and Nine Inch Nails. Reminds me of staying up late in high school, listening to the music in the garage and typing randomly, cleaning the kitchen and baking strawberry pies in my swimsuit. That green and blue bikini, god, I must have been 13 or 14 when I had that. It was the most perfect pie I ever made.

Sometimes I think about how I'm past the point of physical growth and from now my body is slowly decaying. Dying cell by cell.

My writer friend sent me another letter tonight. The new piece made me whisper "wow" at the desk, under the industrial heartbeat.

She's in bed with him and I am sitting out here alone.

I want to scream.

Sleeping is where I should be but I know it will be hard to go down. Exhaustion I don't feel anymore.

This is where I used to be.

woke up too soon

I am awake again. Wanting to lay on the living room floor with my new keyboard and do something creative.

I will forget about the world for a little while.

Swimming, laying beside the pool in the sun and shade, listening to the water and the trees... I am warm and happy and a bit closer to calm.

what do you say?

I received an email from my writer friend this afternoon, in addition to the newest chapter last night. I sat at my desk, aware that I was forgetting to breathe again. It's the kind of thing that sparks inside you, that makes you want to jump up and shout "This is it! This is amazing!"

Instead of shouting I spent an hour typing up email and listening to U2 while I marveled at the words on my screen.