nbd.

i can't sleep.  can barely breath. 


i tried to eat, read, stare, but still no sleep. 


i'm thinking of all those silly things people say, and of nature.  how the process of life is life, death, life, death.  creation, destruction.  grow, shrink.  and its the death, the destruction, the shrinking that i've been busy doing.  making emotional compost for what's supposed to grow next, i suppose. 


i'm reading too many novels.  i haven't hemmed that skirt yet, or written the two lists that i know will help me a great deal in the process of going from decomposing to growing again.  and now i'm up at four-thirty in the morning writing about it, but still not doing it. 


i guess that means its time to do it.