Trying to sleep in the dark of my room. Lights dimmed, my screen softly aglow. Hearing the sleeping noise around me does not help me any. Getting pressured to sleep is never conducive for actual slumber. Pressure is never sweet, not for anything you have to or must do. The want, the longing, still must reign over, or at the very least, align itself conveniently.
I think i need practice. I will turn my thoughts to read that book, at last. I am a serial book-starter, yet never finish. Lately the Harry Potter one got lucky. But, consistently, i buy what is interesting at the moment, start but not end. Speaks volumes about my disposition. A dead giveaway of where i’m at. Speaking of health, i better get some shuteye, before i get another attack of asthma from my too turned-sensitive-in-adulthood nose. People think it’s stress-related. What isn’t nowadays?
Off to work. Commercial writing vs. my private world of blogs, is ironic. Being able to summon the creative flow at will is another professional handy trick i will never master. I just need to muster the minimum amount per day. Maybe passion has subsided, maybe i have grown old and mossy, maybe i have moved on.
Wink, wink, sneeze, and hope finally, sleep.