the screen and me

Here goes.

I'm making a concerted effort these days to write, even if/when I feel as though I have nothing particular to say. Whether or not this post sees the light of day, I know not. I'm just giving it the old heave-ho, metaphorical pen-to-paper and seeing what comes.

So. Here we are, alone again. Come here often? That was bad. I'll try that again.

Here we are. Alone. It is eerily quiet indoors today, yet outside each car that passes by below seems to be purposefully trying to get my attention, distract me somehow. They whizz, They swoosh, they honk, they slam their doors. However, perhaps my focus is not dead on. In truth, I should make a confession. You intimidate me. Yes you. You and all your gleaming white shining back at me, so perfect and difficult to approach, daunting at times. But oh, when we're in sync with each other, when you somehow seem to whisper back, you allow me to go somewhere that I can only go with you. No one could understand what we have, the worlds we make, the fun we have.

Turns out I'm much more tired than I thought and this may have proven to be an exercise in futility. Insomnia does that. (i.e. makes one believe their ideas are good ones). When I was little my dad and I used to meet in the kitchen during the wee hours of the night/morning and feast on cereal with globs of peanut butter in it (that actually was/is a good idea. For all naysayers, don't knock it, till you try it, unless of course you're allergic...in which case, cereal alone still remains one of the more fantastic foods). In fact I do a lot of my living when others are sleeping. Oddly enough, the more I write about insomnia the heavier my eyelids become. You sneaky devil you. If all this was some sort of training used by you dear screen to help me sleep, oh how I adore you. Like I said, no one could understand our connection. What would I do without you?