the things i think about before going to bed and what the turn me into

at night, i lie in bed and between tossing and turning, i'm afraid of closing my eyes. i'm afraid if i don't do every little thing i'm thinking about right this instant, that i might explode. that if i don't do them before i go to sleep, i may never wake up again to do them. sometimes in bed, i lie there for hours thinking of things i could be doing instead of sleeping. all of them involve art. i could be learning japanese. i could be painting. i could be sculping. i want to be creating. always. never stopping.

i am so afraid of not waking up that i can't get to sleep. i'm in a frenzy and i fight twisted sheets for seconds minutes hours days. i can't tell anymore. but always i wake up the next morning and i'm still here and i still write haikus and prose and silly journal entries. i get dressed. i forgot to eat. too busy to eat. too busy for anything but daydreaming.

i always leave room for twizzlers. twizzlers and tea. i think if i could live on those things forever, i would be all set. except twizzlers are too sweet. so maybe just once a week. tea five times a day. and bagels. tea and bagels.

i'm always thinking about what i should be doing while i'm doing something else things i could be doing instead of what i'm doing. i could be reading. i could be sleeping. i could be creating. i should be writing.

always the answer is: i should be writing.

i am always writing.

always creating.

my dreams become stories.

i can't even sleep without inventing stories.

i've become manic with fairy tales and horror stories and comedies and dramas. everything is such a farse. but at least, i'm dying in art. drowned in art. swamped in art. up to here with art. words and fragments and sentences. i'm floating in them. i'm wading in words.

24 hours a day seems so short. how does anyone get anything done? 
¶ 4:58 PM |