death & all its friends
A few Saturdays ago- insomnia got the better of me. I got tired of counting the dots on the ceiling. I tumbled out of bed early. I washed my face. I brushed my teeth. No coffee. And I absentmindedly just drove to the coast. On that particular morning, the visibility of the air stretched far enough for Etna to appear beyond the water. And I watched her on the horizon- smouldering quietly. She was still- but you could sense her impending violence from a distance; the potential destruction she could leave in her wake at any given moment. Intrinsically restless. My house constantly feels like it's one minor inconvenience away from collapsing. And sometimes, I think about pulling that final stone from the foundation myself. There are dishes in the sink again. But there are always dishes in the sink. The laundry basket has become a monument to my avoidance. There hasn't been food in my fridge for over a month. I don't eat unless someone cooks for me. Work drains me...