I’m not sleeping
I’m not sleeping well. Is that the root of all of my problems? Everyone’s maybe? When someone complains that they’re tired, I ignore it. It’s as though they’re telling me they have a heart beating in their chest. Exhaustion is the underlying colour of the everyday.
There’s someone very dear to me that refuses to invest in anything except a good bed. Some mornings I wake up in a comfortable hotel room and wish, if I could afford it, to never check out. I understand why some people live in hotels long term. It’s a subject I refuse to spend time arguing over.
Light and sound, just a minuscule amount — a ray passing through a pinhole or tip-toes on carpet — are enough to erase an easeful moment. (Fortunately there are others ways to ruin a moment.) Peace is delicate and can be tore with a word.