My day has been long, heavy, harassing, and my duties at home have added their part of the load. I’m so worn and exhausted that I simply can’t concentrate onto my actual task.
I feel so dizzy that I have to lay down a few minutes. This usually never lasts, but this time … My sight is blurry, my whole body shaking, I’m drenched with sweat and suffocating. I try to get up to walk a little, catch my breath and calm down, but my legs can’t hold me anymore, and I fall back onto the sofa.
Damned, this is not my way. I sit, then slowly get up, breathing like an ox, my blood boiling with anger. As I dare a step, I am suddenly flooded by a lightning pain in the chest.
NO! NOT YET! This is too early! I don’t want, It can’t be the time for me to leave… I have so much to do and to learn, and I have kids and friends, so why me, how come, why should it be my turn now?
As my dizziness increases I sit down onto the floor to avoid a heavy fall. I can’t help but smile within myself … afraid of falling while my heart is failing!
I cough to try to make at least part of my blood circulate, thus trying to gain some time to call for help, but all I can do is stay prostrated, holding my chest within my arms while my wheezy breathe becomes more and more difficult and painful.
This is too early! I have to overcome this, but I simply can’t afford it anymore. My heart is now inert, and already I feel my hands and arms getting numb and cold. At last my half-open eyes see the phone, only a few feet away, so close but already out of reach. After a last cough my breath slows down and my sight becomes dark and cloudy.
It is too early but as I have to finally admit it, this is the end… this my end. So much for my projects, so much for music and art work and writing, goodbye family and friends… I have given up a fight I could’t win anymore.
My body has now become entirely inert, all suffering gone away, and my last breathe escapes with this last ironic thought: « Well, this is life! ». My empty shell still holds me for a few moments, but this last tie with life gets thinner and finally totally disappears.
It is time, so be it, and come that may. I escape from this world with relish…
Opening my eyes, slightly disoriented in the dim shadows of the morning, I realize the clock has just rung.
This was a failed escape, finally…
I belong to a few discussion groups on the net, but there is one I like more. I read it each time I can.
This one discussion group is like a huge house with a great fireplace.
I love this house and all the friends and family within it, I love the voices I hear and the faces I see.
From my corner I see people coming in and listening while getting warm.
Some may leave towards the next part of their journey. Some may sleep in a corner. Later they will perhaps participate in some conversation, or tell their own history, and what it has taught them, and how they consider life, its after and before.
As most of the people in this house are well behaved, there are very few, very few outcries or disputes, and when it happens, well this is life, and we cope with it as well as we can. Making a fuss would help no one here.
There are so many different people from so many different places that every exchange, every sentence, every word brings its own part of wisdom.
It is so great to be here within our Family. Maybe I should get out of my corner, get nearer to the fireplace and share more, but for now i can only come in from time to time, so I sit down here, get warm under a comfortable blanket, and listen and watch.
Nanowrimo 2011 will start in five weeks from now…
Great! Evenings spent writing a story, an epic adventure, develop its plot, its places and its characters…
… well to be true, I’m scared stiff
What if last year I had only had some kind of beginner’s luck? Worst, I don’t even know how, or when, or where a gator will find its place!!! Arghhh!
I have the very start or a plot, but this novell may end up being far less linear than « Page blanche » . I’ll have to work the plot much harder, but since I wasn’t much further last year I may reach my goal.
Well, I’d better calm down and – pious hope – take profit of September to get ready.
- Happiness is largely a choice
- Feel gratitude for all of the good in your life
- Spend time contemplating nature
I would simply add
- Don’t take yourself too seriously
Once more the Lumbar brothers have made a fuss, putting me into forced rest. Sister Sciatic did nothing this time.
Nothing to do but stay still and do some potatoe couching while listening to some nice, gentle music. Hopefully the playlist is rather long, and I must be very far from its end.
My moves are limited to the very strict necessity. No interesting book at hand, still no wifi at home, so it is rather complicated to read the news or simply to get some distraction. Playing guitar is no more practical in this position, needless to say about the bass or the didge.
Today is my second « dead rat » special day. I can’t sleep in spite of my meds, although their box holds the yellow sign saying « do not drive when under this medication »; I should be snooring like a cat under the spring sun. Simply I can’t.
Outside the birds are having their day-to-day musical performance. This is a great help while slowly getting up in the morning, or while evacuating one’s soul in the evening, but still, no effect. My brain is running; ideas and thoughts come and go, but until the Lumbar brothers are quiet again there will be no real rest for me.
Lying on the sofa I can only spend my time watching the ceiling. It is rather low in my home, at a little more than seven feet. Beware to its woodden beams as they can make you see a few stars. The ceiling is white, but the number of white nuances is astounding, varying with the light intensity, the covered material and its surface. The beams show the grain of their wood, while the coating slightly shines.
It is spring, and a few flies are having a walk up there, as if they were on a frozen lake that would have been brought there upside down. Are they really on the ceiling, or else am I lying onto their ceiling? I bet they don’t care about it, and methink they care more about the octopod weavers hidden in the borders. They could so quickly be trapped into a web; no need to end up as a meal for those greeds. They are surely still very hungry after the drowsiness of this rather long and cold winter . One of them has left her former skin next to the window.
The ceiling, which a few minutes ago still seemed a uniform surface now looks like a slopped landscape with hills, impacts craters, mounds, and even pits that could morphe into ponds if the ice started to melt. Now this landscape in not as slick as it seemed, but rather grainy and uneven. While lowering down the horizon, the sun brings more light, producing what could be a false sunrise, just before letting the night come down.
By letting my sight wander onto this unlikely country, the surface starts to dance and shiver. A few darks spots appear here and there, but disappear as soon as I try to fix my eyes onto them. Is it an optical illusion, or else a funny side effect of something else? Slowly abandonning its relative flatness the ceiling is now taking more and more depth, up to swallowing me up in its improbable slopes. I am now flying within its serpentine valleys, each moment coming closer to its surface, so close that I can distinct fractures, canyons and abysses that make it look like the chitinous skin of some benthic arthropod.
My flight accelerates, and the landscape slips quicker and quicker around me. Here and there I vaguely notice creatures, most of them as stunned as me. Some seem to have threatening intentions but most are totally indifferent to my incursion into their territory. One more acceleration and I suddently recover some height, just before a last sharp incurvation of my path leads me straight towards the ground in an astounding acceleration.
I open my eyes into the weak light of the evening ; the ceiling has recovered its usual frozen lake appearance. The trip is over.