Kathryn, I found your foo cup.

Aug 20, 2009 03:06

I woke up to the sounds of a strangely energetic blowjob. Warm wetness is slapping against my face rhythmically; a large, cool, blackness brushes lightly behind it, going up and down, up and down. It keeps interrupting what fuzzily appear to be two beautiful, big, brown eyes, so full of eagerness, and yet only half open and awake. G'mornin Wilson; I love you too, but please stop tearing microscopic pieces of flesh off of my nose now.

I haven't been sleeping well. Certain instances are easily enough explained by whatever the hell I was doing that day, but the consistency of the issue, I believe, may be unrelated. I've acquired some sort of (muscle) tension that I consciously have to relax away, usually several times, before I can sleep. I can't pin down the root this is stemming from, though the top suspect is physical stress. I think I took for granted the many years of relative comfort, and am now having difficulty acknowledging and expressing the progression of physical pain I've been experiencing. It's troublesome to think of where this could so easily lead.

There are things in our heads that we show only some, and surely, only some can see these things. I think that the two do not overlap as often as they ought.
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