00:02
And I am awake in the middle of the night – able to fall asleep; seemingly unable to recover when I do wake up in the middle of the night. In my bed, alone, a dose of melatonin has the opposite effect of widening the gap between my body and an induced slumber.
I am drinking tea with milk – an acquired habit. I have had little patience for creative endeavors. Time is getting sucked into this deep void of endless repetitive and monotonous list of tasks, to-dos and routine. Newness feels old. And I am not giving myself permission to be enamored or inspired.
My tear ducts dried up a long time ago and I have found it tiring to sustain an emotion and let it wash over me. Rather, I have been craving the all-consuming, fierce, addictive emotional patterns that will drive me into a familiar euphoria.
I have lost the appetite for slow burns. Give it all to me – let me gorge and get drunk until I can have no more; until I become sick of it and move on to the next thing. This is perhaps how I have loved and how I am tempted to love again.
To sustain attention and desire over a long time requires me to not only know when to pull back and practice restraint, but to also feed my other desires outside of passion and romance, to nature and pay attention to and fight for them.