Back to the up all night and no sleep routine. It’s an old act I developed in high school or was it college? Not a stand-up comedy routine. Could be at this point because if I don’t laugh I’ll cry.
Cry. Soft whimpering cries. Loud screaming cries.
No dies. Not yet.
Tired wired eyes. I doze off then wake up. I wake up I doze off.
I tried to eat my worries last night and I couldn’t keep them down.
I’m hungry then I can’t eat. Can’t sleep. What can I do?
My body rejects my denial and forces me to think. Think. Think
I slept earlier yesterday after a panic attack. Anxiety attack. Anxiety went into cruise control and got into an accident with my insides and outsides. I was inside. Inside.
I slept yesterday. It was a dream. Not the sleep. It was dream to sleep. The day before I slept. Slept early. Awoke early.
Productive. Creative. Happy. Happy.
Today and last night and some other nights the pains in my face drove me to a painkiller. Kill the pain. Kill pain.
Kills pain. I can’t sleep. Can’t sleep. I dream of sleep. Dream sleep.
Remember the night owl I once was? I wanted to be? Proud to be?
No worries.
Worries. Problems. Dilemmas. Solutions.
Solutions. Think. Think man, think. A Solution. Solutions.
Solution? Not there yet. Not sure I’m anywhere yet. Had one or two or three or more. Solutions. Each solution is kicked out of the way by a bigger worry. Bigger problem. Bigger dilemma.
I cry. I laugh. I get outraged. I am sensitive. Sensitive artist. Bah.. Starving artist. Bah..
I go away for a minute. Two maybe three. Minutes. I am surrounded by love and sex and fantasies I make up as they float through my dreams.
I get home to an empty fridge and a coffee table cluttered with reminders of my worries. I scramble for solutions. I do what I can to solve the worries, problems and dilemmas.
Productive. Creative. Happy?
Not sure. Doubt. Hope. In between.
Go forward. Move ahead. Back to the taxi. Whip it.
Maybe I will. Whip it. Whip it good.
I win even If I lose.
I survive. Survive.
Posted by richhillenjr 
