Morningsickness

Another morning. As much as you try to prolong the night, morning always comes to steal it from you, and then you have to go through this whole charade again.

It reminds me of that old fairy tale. I can't even remember where it's from. Certainly not Disney, if that's what you're thinking. It's that one where the ungrateful daughter puts on a pair of enchanted shoes that compel her to dance and dance and dance. And as she figures out that she will probably dance until she dies from exhaustion, she asks the world for forgiveness... We all know how Disney would end this story. We North Americans sure like our happy endings, but somehow I don't think the world is all that forgiving.

I think Shakespeare had something to say about it, something about life being a tale told by an idiot, signifying nothing.

Last night as I lay awake my mind was a wash of half a million scenarios with you in them, not one of them working out quite right. They were fun and fanciful at first, and then gradually they became more and more realistic, drab, dull, until you and I padded off in opposite directions into the night, disinterested.

Sometimes I wish that that was what we'd do.

Like yesterday I am fighting once again to stay awake, not because I need sleep, but more because I'm bored. I have plenty of things to do, I just have no desire to. I've found lately that I don't really feel like doing anything, and yet I get to the point in the afternoon/evening that I am so bored that I just go to sleep for lack of anything better to do. Then I lay awake for hours thinking of everything and nothing at the same time.

This too will pass, right?