In the darkness I watch the smoke curl, only it isn’t really smoking because I don’t smoke cigarettes anymore. Is it really drinking if the beer isn’t alcoholic? If it’s not, then I could use a drink. It’s been three years since I’ve had a drink. Three years? Or was it four? When my mind is like this I tend to forget.
I’ve been so excited staring at this new book I received on my doorstep today, I’ve taken it out of my handbag so many times already and stared at the cover, flipped through the pages and stared at the words without really seeing them. I don’t know where to begin, at the beginning is always best, I’m sure, but I’m afraid of tainting the pages.
I need to sleep, six a.m. comes so early and in Texas it’s nearly one a.m. yet here I am, listening to sleep music for puppies on YouTube while she paces in circles, whining because she wants to roam around the house. He says it’s because she’s at the age where she’s a teenager in puppy years and I think back to when I was a teenager and decide that I can relate. When I was her age, I always wanted to be anywhere but where I was.
I browsed through Amazon tonight and told myself that I am making it my mission to buy two more books of poetry by bloggers whose words I adore. I’ve never been too keen on ordering online but these words, I need them. I have yet to read anything in the book I received today, I have only held it and turned it this way and that, knowing that somewhere in between those covers will be words that make me cry. Not that I am afraid to cry and not that I will cry because I am sad. I cannot quite explain it. Opening up to that first page is a moment that I treasure and I am excited and anxious and perhaps not quite ready.
I am restless tonight and so is the puppy. She’s been whining off and on for the past hour and I’ve finally let her out of the bedroom so she can wander around. I wish sleep would come yet I am frustrated, angry, suspicious and I know that it will not. Tomorrow I’ll be most unpleasant and by Wednesday or Thursday, maybe not until Friday, I will feel terrible about my mood swings. But maybe it’s not all so bad because when I am feeling this way is usually when I’m the most productive with my writing.
2 thoughts on “Restless”
Sorry to hear you are struggling, it seems so alien to me that you’d be excited about a book but unable to read it. I hope you find the right moment soon, and I hope you enjoy the poetry when those books arrive. It’s reassuring that you have ended this post on a positive note, too.
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I know exactly what it’s like to not be able to get to a book even though you’re excited about it. I’m glad you are able to find a sort of silver lining in all of this. Writing is always a great outlet.
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