The light from the afternoon sun is blinding to my morning eyes. Ten full hours of deep sleep but my head remains tucked away in my pillow until responsibility forces my body to exercise its muscles and rise. If time were my own to spend, perhaps these bags that hang heavily in my sight would retreat and let my youth prevail. These days it is all I can do to show face, but I do not suffer from depression. I think it’s just a deep sadness along with a strong feeling of discontent and a constant paranoia of impending doom. “Tomorrow will be better. Things will start to look up.” One of these days I would like to wake up dancing.
October 31, 1999