[HER]E

I didn't always have a name for this feeling. When I was younger and awake in the middle of the night and alone I would get this "feeling." I didn't always know to call it "happy" or "sad." It wasn't until I spoke of it to other people that I heard it referred to as 'happy' or 'sad.' Some said, 'happy.' Others said, 'sad.' I didn't know what it was called then, I don't know what it's called now. Here. Presence. Being. Now. Awareness.

Maybe.

"This feeling" will do. It always has. Why name it, when I can feel it?

Un-name your feelings. Don't name your feelings. FEEL them.

The inextricable blur betwixt pain and pleasure is best felt and experienced rather than dissected and analyzed.

I don't know what I am feeling but I know that I am feeling.

It's hard for me to be quiet. It's hard for me to sit still.

I am going to attempt to have a conversation with myself.
I am having a conversation with myself.
There, realizing it was all it took. That wasn't so hard, now was it?

No. You know what I mean.
You?
I know what I mean. Humor me. Humor your self.
I am humoring myself.

I am having a conversation with myself.

*sit*
*flick*
*inhale*
*exhale*
*twist*
*sip*
*swallow*
*sit*

If only I could type as fast as I can think. I'd settle for even as fast as I talk.
I should probably go to bed.
That would be responsible.
That's the responsible thing to do.
Maintain a good sleep schedule.
Be a good little human.

Oh wait. No off button on this thing. Just sorta have to wait it out...

Sleeping isn't want I wanted initially anyway. I wanted to have a good think. I wanted to record myself thinking. Doing a pretty decent, tip-of-the-iceberg style, job of it presently, I'd say. Posture needed reassessed. As did laptop placement. All comfy like now.

I wanted to type this and then read a catalog I got in the mail today. Followed by

HER 6 AM ALARM IS GOING OFF

FUCK THIS SHIT. ABBEY IS AWAKE. TIME TO HANG OUT WITH HER.