The other night I woke up in the middle of the night hearing these words in my head, like someone whispering:
Are you…? Hey. Are you?
I think I was awake. I remember waking up and hearing the words. I just heard them inside of my head.
Is it a question? Is it a doubt? A dream?
Are you afraid?
Are you good enough?
Are you going to?
Are you happy? Sad? Worried?
Am I …what?
It wouldn’t let me go back to sleep until I wrote it down, but it wouldn’t say anything else. I tossed around a bit promising to write it down later, but eventually gave up.
And my wrists ache from writing too much. And my shoulders. And my head wants me to stop thinking. And words want to come in through my eyes. And it is the middle of the fucking night and I am not feeding you any more words. I’m not.
And I all I think is “chickenheart.”**
So it looks like it’s another book hangover.
Maybe I need to cut back on my words. It’s becoming a problem.
Not like I’ve ever had any control of my word binges…
Or any other aspect of my life for that matter. I am as bingy about my words as I am about everything else. No, worse. I have been overindulging on words since I started reading at…three? Four?
A lot of words.
**From “My Notorious Life” which was OK and all, but really not good enough to keep me up at night.
And now I want an app that will track how many words I read. Just. Shoot. Me. Now.