Getting down to the wire
Word Count rounded out at 3900 and I exhaled, pushed the no-longer-straight hair out of my eyes and rolled backwards over this substandard desk chair. The light outside tricked me, it was after six. My back hurt.
Certain, as usual, that I had birthed an essay-child that was part devil-spawn and part of last night's vaguely recollected dream, I closed Microsoft Word and EndNote, both pirated, and distracted myself through the facebook and quiet strains of Wheat Kings and Bobcaygeon. I contemplated fixing my id3 tags and setting up itunes again. Busywork for the anal and easily distracted. Shook off exhaustion, having been awoken from my hour-long snooze-button-pressing ritual by a handyman coming to measure Elizabeth's curtains. She would be happy to hear it was done.
Looked back over my day. My night. I closed my eyes and allowed my neuroses to wash over me, for the first time I could separate them from reality, those misguided goings-on of my overactive inner world. And so I entertained them, built them up from small rivulets of insecurity into torrents of self-doubt, and let them run through my mind unhindered. Yes I had seen him again, of course. Now second-guessing, I stand firm by the sense I had when he left last night, a subtle feeling of security, awash with contentment, certainty and the smile he left on my lips. Playing words back through my mind and over sound waves, vibrating up from my shivering throat and down again through tiny bones. For all my cynicism and bitter posturing, I did feel like my luck was finally changing, and knew it was his luck as well. The latter being the only sign that I was still, somewhere behind the smitten hope, myself.
My mind more acute, the inner voices persistent and closely heeded. I tried to disengage from the sensation of warmth that had seeped into my body over the previous hours, that left my hands shaking from more than hunger. I stepped softly, gently, back into my own skin and lay down alone. But as I wrapped myself around pillows and wandered towards sleep, I placed my hand across his chest and sighed.
Certain, as usual, that I had birthed an essay-child that was part devil-spawn and part of last night's vaguely recollected dream, I closed Microsoft Word and EndNote, both pirated, and distracted myself through the facebook and quiet strains of Wheat Kings and Bobcaygeon. I contemplated fixing my id3 tags and setting up itunes again. Busywork for the anal and easily distracted. Shook off exhaustion, having been awoken from my hour-long snooze-button-pressing ritual by a handyman coming to measure Elizabeth's curtains. She would be happy to hear it was done.
Looked back over my day. My night. I closed my eyes and allowed my neuroses to wash over me, for the first time I could separate them from reality, those misguided goings-on of my overactive inner world. And so I entertained them, built them up from small rivulets of insecurity into torrents of self-doubt, and let them run through my mind unhindered. Yes I had seen him again, of course. Now second-guessing, I stand firm by the sense I had when he left last night, a subtle feeling of security, awash with contentment, certainty and the smile he left on my lips. Playing words back through my mind and over sound waves, vibrating up from my shivering throat and down again through tiny bones. For all my cynicism and bitter posturing, I did feel like my luck was finally changing, and knew it was his luck as well. The latter being the only sign that I was still, somewhere behind the smitten hope, myself.
My mind more acute, the inner voices persistent and closely heeded. I tried to disengage from the sensation of warmth that had seeped into my body over the previous hours, that left my hands shaking from more than hunger. I stepped softly, gently, back into my own skin and lay down alone. But as I wrapped myself around pillows and wandered towards sleep, I placed my hand across his chest and sighed.
posted by Care | 5:23 PM
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