To Begin, Again

It's four am, and I'm awake. Pain radiating through me. I'm on drugs, and restless, with coffee to keep me from falling asleep.

If I were to sleep, I'd miss a dose and awake in even more pain. Brutal, ungodly amounts of it.

I can barely see straight.

I just took another dose, and if I were sleeping I'd have missed it. Be lost and alone in fever's sweat-soaked sheets, thrashing about, crying, screaming, mentally distraught and physically unwell to such an extent I would consider a shotgun to the temple a more pleasant alternative, and viable option. Suicide always is. Though writing keeps the carpet clean. And Baby Girl sleeping. If I pulled the trigger, she'd awake, and who would be here to comfort her? Who would find me? I'd rot on the bloodstained carpet with a hole in my head to match the one in my tooth: the one causing me all this pain.

I'm in a lofty, dark mood. Silly though. And desperate to ease my clouded mind.

I need to write...and since I am here for the rest of the night/morning, inbetween time, I think I will write and let the physical pain take a backseat in the black cab of my life. I'll ride shotgun to my writerly side; let him or her drive.

We'll drive all night, Writerly Mind! And regret it come morning.

It is morning...Thursday. The last day of August. It's dieing, and taking summer with it.

Let's drive to the countryside and run through fields and make love beneath the stars and the Moon that makes the ocean move.

(Sigh)

I think my Writerly Mind is lonely.

I think I'm lonely, too, despite the massive amount of pain I will further explain, as this day continues.

[Update, three hours later] I didn't want to mar my happy little ending on the actual story post...despite my pain and bad luck, I'm actually in a lovely, romantic mood; I'll put it here:

I called the dentist, and he's out of town working at another clinic about two hours south of here. I'm willing to drive. But I might not have to. The nurse said she'd talk to him, and see if he'd just call-in my prescription to the local pharmacy.

Yes. That would be nice. But they're supposed to call me and let me know, so I need to stay offline, which isn't nice; I didn't get a chance to read anything, write anyone, or respond to any comments. I'm so sorry. I'll catch up as soon as I'm back from my little world of pain and daydreams.