I will be the pattern of all patience; I will say nothing.

It’s 8am. I still can’t sleep.

6am: gave up tossing in bed.

6.30am: walked around the house in the pale blue morning light. Heard weird bird sounds. Weird for the 26th storey. Went to the fridge, looked for the usual sleep inducers. None. No pills, no alchohol, no milk for the honey.

My city is a synthetically bright one. My home is the same. Must get used to other ways of life.

7am: started pc up.

8am: out of blogs, out of mail, out of searches. not in the mood for anything in particular.

*twiddle thumbs*

Am missing our dvd collection right now.

Am trying not to think about the discomfort of moving.

Am trying not to sneer at the meandyou-dotcom wedding sites-turned-blogs.

Faintly recall trying to sleep in other continent. Still frigid air. Smells of bread. What will I do if I can’t sleep? Call home?

Random thoughts creep: I don’t want to take down the photos from the wall. I don’t want to put the rest of my stuff in boxes into storage somewhere here. My parents might move closer to my brother when he moves. I might not see my room again.

Does it matter?

I psych: nothing is final. There is always recourse. No cause for alarm.

I shudder: navigating, driving, job, house, taxes, maintenance, gas, repairs, insurance, phone, groceries, hospitals, savings, investments, forms, processes, banks, mortgage, time.

Many unknowns. Size unknown.

I aspire: others have gone, some alone, some with dependants, some with nothing, some with too much.

They follow(ed) dreams.

Uh-oh. No dreams lately.

Maybe because can’t sleep.

Gone to try again.