Enter a title.
Go to dashboard.
I want to write but I don’t feel inspired. I’ve felt nauseous for days. Drinks with friends mask the pain. Finally find sleep for an hour to awake for a few more then drift off and on the toss met by the turn.
Set an alarm.
Push the cat away.
I can’t do this. I can’t open my eyes, too tired am I to face another day.
Go through the motions, I’m half-here. I’ve always walked between worlds before, only this time I’m so hollow, I wonder if this is what it means to be incomplete.
Deep breath. Time to pray. Give thanks and thanks and thanks but I’m hollow, so hollow, thanks feels hard to say. Thanks for what? A part of me thinks. Laughter somewhere, a part of me drinks in the experiences of ‘such is Life’ but with each new day, I’m just trying to make it through