Write night rage
Perhaps rage is too strong of a word. Write night brain cramp is more appropriate. I just can't seem to focus on anything tonight. The insomnia couldn't possibly have anything to do with that, could it.
Sleep rage, now there's something I know a lot about. I experience it after I have lain (or is it laid) awake for two hours waiting for Mr. Sandman to carry my off to dreamland. My body aches for sleep. My mind is confused, like its lost something and can't find it. No clues. No breadcrumb trail. Can't remember where I put it last. My mind rebels against the forces of nature, the natural rhythm of sleep and awake. Day is night and night is day. Except I find no respite from awake during the day either. During the day I manage to operate as long as I am not required to call upon any higher order thinking. Try teaching in a state of brain fog. I struggle to focus on the task at hand; no distractions please, it might give me away. I try to pretend I'm fine; show no weakness; but in the blink of a swollen, dark encircled eye, my secret is exposed. No I didn't sleep well last night I say. In truth, I haven't slept well in years, it just happens to be worse right now. I don't want drugs; I just want sleep. Sweet sleep. Perhaps to dream. To wake refreshed, energetic, eager to tackle the challenges of a new day.
Sleep rage, now there's something I know a lot about. I experience it after I have lain (or is it laid) awake for two hours waiting for Mr. Sandman to carry my off to dreamland. My body aches for sleep. My mind is confused, like its lost something and can't find it. No clues. No breadcrumb trail. Can't remember where I put it last. My mind rebels against the forces of nature, the natural rhythm of sleep and awake. Day is night and night is day. Except I find no respite from awake during the day either. During the day I manage to operate as long as I am not required to call upon any higher order thinking. Try teaching in a state of brain fog. I struggle to focus on the task at hand; no distractions please, it might give me away. I try to pretend I'm fine; show no weakness; but in the blink of a swollen, dark encircled eye, my secret is exposed. No I didn't sleep well last night I say. In truth, I haven't slept well in years, it just happens to be worse right now. I don't want drugs; I just want sleep. Sweet sleep. Perhaps to dream. To wake refreshed, energetic, eager to tackle the challenges of a new day.
posted by Buttercup at
6:54 PM
5 Comments:
Okay, so I hate to say this, but I really like your writing when you're exhausted. That second paragraph rocks. It describes the condition of frustrated sleep and brain fog perfectly. Now that I'm encouraging the insomnia, but at least you're creating something cool from it.
By
Donna Sewell, at 7:16 PM
The imagery of your brain having something missing is great.
By
Diana Chartier, at 7:35 PM
We have to remember this Write Night moment: the freaky guy who, presumably, was checking his reflection in the mirror above our head. He seemed to be staring at us; we all refused to make eye contact, but turned into Dirty Harriets as soon as he left. We kick ass against imaginary opponents.
By
Donna Sewell, at 7:42 PM
I like your style in this piece. The frustration and that place between rest and sleep come through your words. And the restlessness. It's good. (I was going say "really good", but I've been told "really" is useless repeatedly, so...)
I hope you find sleep soon!
By
blindsi, at 11:18 AM
Hi. This comment is irrelevant. It means nothing. It is made to see if I've joined the group.
I'm an old geezer who attended the Writing Project about 10 years ago. I remain interested in what you guys are doing. Just peeping in because Professor Sewell suggested it. See how susceptible to suggestion I am?
By
Quanah Parker, at 5:08 PM
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