Very little gets me excited these days. My life is fairly even keeled. I have little drama. I have companionship and close emotional ties but there are times, especially lately, when I can't sleep thinking that I'm wasting my life. My insomnia has been a beast the last couple of weeks. I fall asleep easily enough then the panic comes and I'm wide awake thinking of the places on this earth I haven't traveled to. I think of how much time I spend in the service of others without paying attention to my owns needs. I think of my body, aging each second. I think I've painted myself into a corner, a life free of threats and heartache but the other side of that bitter coin is a life free of passion and true joy. Then I remind myself I'm a writer, this may be common, sometimes panic is at the heart of creation.
I don't even have the desire to finish this blog entry.