I'm in bed by 8:30 or 9 pm each night, asleep within 15 minutes or so thanks to melatonin. But not last night. Last night I saw midnight come and go.
I've had this very thing happen in much the same way several times in the past year or so. I lay in bed, eyes wide open, staring out into the night time sky, the stars and moon blurry without my glasses. My mind whirls. Not in a frenzy, but in a clicking, calculated sort of way, going through all of the very practical things that would need to occur - either to do them or have Life do them for me - and the order they'd happen in for my living to shut down, for the story of Katherine to stop.
Each time I reach the same end point: it would all just start up again. In other words, whatever fuels this human continues to fuel, and until that gets dealt with, or Life deals with it, it'll continue to pump out story.
Sure, I listen to it less. I'm much less involved in the story of my life. Every day I watch dispassionately as another things is lobbed off, or falls off. There are things I still holler about, but it doesn't last long. Because I keep remembering that it isn't important, that nothing is important.
And last night, after I reached the same old endpoint, the same old realization, my eyes clunked shut, and with my nose buried in the belly of Emmaline's fur, I was instantaneously in snoozeland.
Maybe I write, maybe I don't. Maybe I drop this life and wander off, maybe I don't. Who knows? Who cares?