Refill.

Trying to take responsibility for my own health. Correcting my sleep schedule. Eating meals, featuring produce. I slept four hours, and I need to wait until evening before I sleep again, or else I’ll waste the day. Have started writing poetry again. I desire to be a modern day Anne Sexton. I don’t know how to do this, other than to keep writing, which is probably a good idea. Falling asleep at a restaurant, quite vividly. Dreaming even. 

Okay, an hour later, coffee has been consumed, and I’m alert enough to not be nodding off in my chair. I day dream of studying writing. I day dream of writing. I spend my days writing. Well, tidbits of them, writing. I hope to slowly build more and more time. I hope to build a lot of things, namely myself. Looking for bus tickets to Philadelphia. Wish I could travel more. I will. I need to be hopeful. I also wish I was sitting next to a plug, at this coffee shop. Debating the purchase of a cookie. Positive feedback loop, start eating well, sleeping well, feeling well. I do feel well, more or less. Medication is doing it’s job. I need to up the ante on my side of things. As per usual. I have grown boring these past months, venturing very little, in the inner or outer world. I want good french toast. Cheap french toast. Bought a refill for my pen. That is a metaphor for something greater I feel, this humble Itoya, rollerball refill.  

About Undecided Pseudonym

A woman who remembers enjoying writing.
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