The older I get, and I feel older every minute of my life, I realize more and more that life changes every second. Take tonight for instance. There isn't anything particularly peculiar about it. As usual I found myself completely starving at an odd hour of the early morning, and post eating I felt tired. Feeling tired is such a wonderful feeling, possibly the perfect feeling- if only I could for once feel that at the exact right moment- the moment my head is resting on my pillow and all is right with my world.

I have fleeting moments of feeling tired, followed by seconds passing where I am too cold, too warm, the pillows aren't adjusted right, suddenly I'm thirsty, then I have to use the bathroom (which just disrupts all efforts toward sleep. It's something about the whole actually getting up and then walking and then turning on lights because, frankly, I find going to the bathroom in the dark to be creepy. This I will add is a conditioned superstitious freak feeling caused by fear of ghosts in the mirror that will undoubtedly kill me the first dark chance they get. I can't imagine a worse death than one with my pants around my ankles, sitting on the toilet...). It never ends! And then suddenly I notice that it's 7am and that what light I let in through my windows is peeking and laughing at me from my shut blinds and suddenly I can somehow rationalize drinking (alcohol or coffee) and saying to hell with sleep tonight. It's just not going to happen.

This whole process reminds me way to much of crying. Have I mentioned the "orgasm of tears" recently? I'm starting to feel that way about the feeling you get right before you are finally able to drift off. The orgasm of sleep. I wish I could. I am haunted by words.