On Waking

I’m flipping out right now. I feel like I’m tweaking on too much caffeine and too little sleep, but the last time I ingested caffeine was an espresso after brunch, thirteen hours ago. That’s cleared my system by now.

Adrenaline? More likely endorphins. I’m definitely running on a sleep deficit. I can feel that much. But I can’t sleep. I’m twitching. My fingers are shaking a little as I type. My mind is racing, racing, running itself ragged in too many directions. I can count at least three different concurrent lines of thought.

Today, for the first time in six weeks, for the first time since I essentially became an invalid, I spent a day with friends. That’s not to say I’ve been lacking for friendship in the last month-and-a-half. On the contrary, I’ve been shuttled around and lain out on futons and couches and generally been made to understand that my friends are amazing, but today was different.

I felt like I spent all day slowly waking up. I can’t describe it. A pleasant brunch, a few hours at Tommy’s house. A walk through Duck Pond. Standing in a kitchen and drying dishes. Standing. Standing. Walking.

I had a taste, a brief and bitter taste of life at the mercy of a failing body. Six weeks worth of eternity.

Today was on my own terms. I leaned on nobody but myself and although my heart swells with gratitude for the friends that I have been able to lean on it soars because I no longer need to. I’m barely coherent but I want to record how I feel. I want to shout. I want to sing. I want to cry. I do none of it but write. Barely coherent. Fragments.

Today was a day of simple pleasures. There was nothing grand in my activities. It was a day that is the echo of a dozen dozen days just like it. But today was beautiful. Today was the day that made me appreciate the dozen dozen days just like it.

Today I woke up.