It’s one of those times when I’m so tempted to get up in the middle of the night and leave this bed that I don’t sleep in anyway and step outside into the open space and start walking and pick up speed until I’m running with hair sticking to my face and the tears mingle with the rain and I can’t see anything clearly and it’s too much to take, my legs soon start to ache and my chest is about to give out, so I stop in the middle of the road, panting for air, and then I turn around and start walking back home, chilled to the bone and I d o n ‘ t c a r e .
Or at least that’s what I hopelessly repeat in my head every time I sit up in bed and feel tempted to write myself away until there’s nothing left but sheets stained with ink and paper crumpled all over the floor.
I don’t care I don’t care I don’t care I don’t care…
And so I stare at the ceiling, wishing I could put my head under the water to silence these feelings but they just won’t go and I know I promised thousands of times I would stop sleeping with my notebook but when that hour comes I just can’t help but feel tempted to reach across the pillow and give in.
Each night I give in.