March 21, 2020 My body responds to the tension in my brain. My legs rub like a cricket as fast as my news feed fills, disrupting any attempt to sleep.
Thoughts are firing through my head, causing my own panic and sensory overload. "COVID-19," shifting political agendas, my own bills, and an ex.
The white static noise of a fan desperately trying to drown out the negativity and loss in my mind, but to no avail.
The thoughts are crushing.
I feel as if I'm laying on a bed of broken glass;
A product of my decisions.
A sense and feeling of decay beyond my expiration date.
Self doubt my blanket.
Attempts at positivity.
I love my friends and family;
But sometimes it's not enough.
I desire a title of importance but my name-tag reads, "Wayde."
No depth to the name nor sadness...I just am.
Existence without coexistence.
Alone; not lonely.
I am present instead of presence.
I would say tomorrow is a new day but tomorrow has already arrived.
Like laundry, I toss and turn.
Thoughts neatly folded until I must wear them again...tonight.
I will get through the day but will I get through the night?