Insomniac

It amazes me that I’ve had the ability to come up with this many things to say in my blog. Or maybe it doesn’t amaze me at all.

So many things to write about. So little to tell.

I’m snuggled under my cozy comforter without the ability to fall asleep. I’ve tried. My brain just doesn’t seem to want to shut down. Too many things to think about I guess. How come it’s always late at night when this happens? Why couldn’t I have gotten all these thoughts over with earlier in the day?

As I lie here, typing, listening to my old dog’s deep snores, I can’t help but to think of every single issue. The good. The bad. The indifferent. All rolled up into one big ball that defines me. Who I am. Who I’m not. Who I’m going to be.

Most of these issues I’m not bold enough (or stupid enough) to mention here. And most are just too silly and shouldn’t even be using up valuable brain space.

But yet, here I am.

I’m not really sure why I grabbed this laptop and began typing in the dark. I guess I hoped that seeing my thoughts appear on this glowing screen would mean that they would then become permanent. Tangible. And there would be no need to replay them in my head again and again. My eyes are droopy and my thoughts are slurred, but I know that sleep isn’t in my near future. At least not until after I get these words out.

Words.

Words are amazing to me. They can break you. They can drain you. There are times in my life when I would much rather have taken a stabbing. They can build you. Protect you. Make you smile. But sadly, sometimes it’s the harsh words that shout out the loudest. Even years after they were spoken. Why is that? Bad words make me run. Avoid.

Avoid.

There’s another humdinger. Sometimes I’m so good at avoiding that I don’t even realize that I am. I’m usually called on it. Confronted. Told to change, but not told how. The exit door is unmarked and so I find myself just standing there waiting. Blogging.

Oh how this blog is not about you. Not for you.

It’s for me. It’s about me. It’s about that warped sense of self that seems to strangely co-exist with confidence and pride. It’s about contentment and happiness, mixed in with fear and doubt. It’s about loving my life yet yearning for more. It’s about today. It’s about six years ago. It’s about 28 years ago. It’s about how all of this will unavoidably mold itself into a tomorrow. The unknown and the uncontrolled. Into me.

It’s about thinking too much. It’s about thinking and not doing. Not fixing.

My brain is a remote control flipping through different channels. Flip-Flip-Flip. Each channel different in plot. Different genres. Comedy. Inspirational. Tragedy. One story never crossing paths with the next. Yet I’m the common thread. Funny how life can be so random, perplexing and simple all at the same time. Funny how I’m the one who probably makes it that way.

Hopefully I’ll be able to table these thoughts and pick them back up tomorrow when the daylight can expose new solutions. New ideas. New plans.

Goodnight...