Perhaps.

Perhaps I over-caffeinated today, Gentle Reader, for I find my bedtime sorely tested tonight, with too much energy to read, and not enough energy to write.  Caught in between, I decided to blog here instead, as to feel somewhat productive.

Also, see: laundry, doing.

Or perhaps, just perhaps, something else is caught in my periphery, in the corner of my eye as something I want but cannot have.  I’ve been dreaming of it and nothing else since I was a small child, and I want it so badly.  I taste it in my mouth.  It tastes like ashes, and copper, and blood.

So close, Reader.  So very close to achieving my dream yet for the largest roadblock of them all.  I have no patience, DH tells me.  I need to wait, and see.

I hate waiting.

Perhaps this is about waiting as much as it is about an over-caffeinated night in which I cannot sleep.  Or perhaps it’s dreaming, you see, dreaming caught in my head and tossed about and so close (so close, whisper it) to the surface.

I am trailing water.

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