Drip…Drip…Drip…
This rain…it provides a steady beat by which to time my avoidance of sleep.
Ping. Ping. Ping. As the drops bounce off of the aluminum awning outside the window, I count three more seconds of wakefulness. Awareness. Three more seconds that I’m alive. How many keystrokes occur in those three seconds? Soon I’ll be asleep and the world will continue around me as if I weren’t there. But for now, the world can’t escape me.
Ping. Ping. Ping. Three more seconds. These intervals add up and soon, I’ve been up an hour longer than I thought I would be. One more hour of my life has been lived and one less hour of my life has been missed. One more page down. One more scene written.
Sleep is the greedy lover that demands all of your time and attention. It cares nothing for your desire to live or create. It demands that you succumb to its embrace and you forget about the world around you. It demands that you forget about the beast in your mind trying to escape.
Ping. Ping. Ping. The rain keeps me company. The cadence of alertness draws me out of my near slumber.
I type.
I create.
In the morning I’ll delete.
That’s the way this thing works.
