30 minutes of creative writing. It sounds easy but it's not. So many things get in the way.
I have to pee. The dog needs to pee. My neck hurts. I need a desk. One complaint after another comes into view, between me and the page. Now the roommate's taking a shower. I'll never get to pee.
Sometimes I wonder what my heart is doing. Is it beating right? How big is it, really? What's it look like? Is it going to betray me someday? Have I already betrayed it? When will it tell me it's had enough bacon and that I should have paid more attention? It's always with me yet I've never really seen it.
I miss the smell of sycamore trees. No, I miss feeling good when I smell sycamore trees. Now I feel nostalgic and vaguely rotten and twisted up inside. I used to have family. I used to have childhood. But I'd never fight to have either back. Funny.
My room is a little nest of warmth. I've put trust into a forty dollar heater to keep me warm and not kill me. It's full of oil. It crackles. I'm suspicious. So far, it does its job. Please, heater, don't kill me. If I say I trust you will that help? I think you gave me this headache I woke up with. Now I have something new to blame these morning headaches on.
Ah, sweet relief. Bathroom access permitted.
The dog does not understand the dog door. The cat does. The dog sees the cat move freely in and out, from yard to kitchen, from human world to animal world over and over every day. Yet he does not assume that he could do the same. I've showed him how; we've done it together. But for him, it's not an option. He will wait patiently (or impatiently?) for twelve hours for me to open that door so he can pee. He's free and doesn't even know it.
For a year I woke up sad every day and knew why. I just didn't want to lose. I wanted to be right. Every pain in my heart not caused by death is caused by my rightness. I'm right about that, by the way.
These days, I wake up inside a space. It's quiet. It moves slowly. I see myself from myself floating somewhere off to the right. I can feel my hand resting over my heart. I open my eyes and for a brief moment, I know that I am safe.
Then I notice I have to pee.