...just going through the motions...

 ...blink...blink...

The cursor and I, unbeknownst to you, have been engaged in epic battle for at least 10 minutes now...neither willing to give an inch!

I sat down in the warmth and cozy comfort of a house gone quiet...teenager typing away at his own blog, baby crib-deep in dreamland.  I laid the groundwork carefully: piping hot tea at the ready, schnibbles and bits of notepaper with barely legible notations stacked up high, phone on silent.

All the good intentions of a writer who never takes the time to write.

I thought I'd dive right in.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

But then I froze.  Even dipping a toe in, so to speak, seemed an enormous effort.  All the words tumbling about inside my head, jousting for first place in line, suddenly gone silent.

I've trouble with words these days.

They only half-form.

Distorted, convoluted creatures that scramble over one another and raise up such a cacophony of discordant sound that I can't think.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sleep-deprivation has won out.

I'm a shell, drained and colorless...hollowed out by exhaustion and endless responsibility.

An automaton.  Internal mechanism going through the motions unceasingly, while the pieces wear out and wear away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Worse, yet...I know it.

I'm aware of the decline.

I'm stuck deep inside myself, unable to raise the alarm.  I liken it to what we imagine of those comatose: internal recognition with no external reaction.

I can't break through the fog.

I need rest.

~~~~~~~

And so I fill the page with this, instead.  Good intentions gone by the wayside, and only these words to show for my time.

Forcing myself to write something...anything...in hopes that the very typing will set things to rights.

An exercise in futility and frustration, but exercise nonetheless.

One I've to repeat until the muscle memory kicks back in and the words are mine to tame once again.

'til then...

~Leanna