Every now and then a little bit slips through the cracks.
Unable to sleep again, I decided to go for a walk. This walk was to clear my head and hopefully cause me to drop from exhaustion. Right off the bat I had a fairly dumb epiphany, at least I hope it was dumb because I don’t really remember it.
I traveled along the highway, as it is the only way out of this town, toward somewhere far more interesting. I saw all the familiar lights and was almost run over at all the intersections I’ve almost been run over hundreds of times before.
As I came to the bridge my head was flooded with memories of the police trying to stop me from jumping off of the bridge that I had no intention of jumping off of. I don’t even think it would kill you if you did jump off, so I thought, maybe this time I will jump. Continuing this thought, if it were a Spring Lake cop they’d just make me walk home with hypothermia. However, a Grand Haven police officer would more than likely shoot me in the leg first, so not only would I have to walk, bleeding, with hypothermia, but I’d also have a limp.
The thought of how likely that was to happen turned me around and directed me back toward town, and a place to stay were the police can’t seem to find me.
Passing through Shell’s parking lot I was beckoned over to a couple of people playing hacky sack. Upon joining them I was introduced, but can only remember one name.
Keith was just a few inches shorter than myself, and his front teeth had rotted away, due to siphoning a tremendous amount of gasoline, I would imagine. The other was slightly taller and I learned had just recovered from some terrible accident that left him in a wheelchair.
For an hour I smoked cigarettes with these men and found that I’m not the only one who can kick a sack well. We traded stories and dodge respectable citizens, who were up this early because they had jobs and were attempting to pay for gas.
Then just as quickly as it had started we dispersed. So, I sit before you with undeniable proof that clearing your mind of worry and working yourself to collapse is not a cure for insomnia.
Still not sleeping,
Dwayne
I traveled along the highway, as it is the only way out of this town, toward somewhere far more interesting. I saw all the familiar lights and was almost run over at all the intersections I’ve almost been run over hundreds of times before.
As I came to the bridge my head was flooded with memories of the police trying to stop me from jumping off of the bridge that I had no intention of jumping off of. I don’t even think it would kill you if you did jump off, so I thought, maybe this time I will jump. Continuing this thought, if it were a Spring Lake cop they’d just make me walk home with hypothermia. However, a Grand Haven police officer would more than likely shoot me in the leg first, so not only would I have to walk, bleeding, with hypothermia, but I’d also have a limp.
The thought of how likely that was to happen turned me around and directed me back toward town, and a place to stay were the police can’t seem to find me.
Passing through Shell’s parking lot I was beckoned over to a couple of people playing hacky sack. Upon joining them I was introduced, but can only remember one name.
Keith was just a few inches shorter than myself, and his front teeth had rotted away, due to siphoning a tremendous amount of gasoline, I would imagine. The other was slightly taller and I learned had just recovered from some terrible accident that left him in a wheelchair.
For an hour I smoked cigarettes with these men and found that I’m not the only one who can kick a sack well. We traded stories and dodge respectable citizens, who were up this early because they had jobs and were attempting to pay for gas.
Then just as quickly as it had started we dispersed. So, I sit before you with undeniable proof that clearing your mind of worry and working yourself to collapse is not a cure for insomnia.
Still not sleeping,
Dwayne