Sleepwalking my way through life: That's right, I'm back



That's right, I'm back

Skritch skritch

It happens suddenly. On the train, during lectures, in the midst of night, when listening to that song; one minute you’re happily idle, and the next minute you’re squirming and fidgeting. You flex your fingers – coiling and unravelling them in desperate anticipation. What is it? Why are you feeling this?

Skritch

Work seems suddenly unimportant; TV becomes surprisingly bland; people begin to talk monotonously; and sleep? The dreaming hours drop away as you are forced to sit up and stare at the glowing screen. Your dark eyes dart back and forth over the screen. Your thumb nail is slowly worn down by your grinding jaw. Your arctic white feet writhe with inactivity.

Skritch

It’s an itch. It’s an itch that’s spreading all through your body. It begins in your fingers, of course, and spreads up your arms and down your torso as it engulfs you whole. Your mind is slowly taken over by it. Slowly. Very slowly. You’re overcome with the itch – it happened so gradually – and every waking moment is spent in temptation of relieving yourself of this itch, this hell. Your finger is ready to drag its nail over the irritation, to silence the need once and for all.

Skritch

I took the pen in hand and wrote a few sentences. Already, as the pen scratched its way over the paper, I could feel the need leaving me.
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1 Comments:

At 5:44 am, Blogger Vivian said...

I have said itch, but somehow it can't be satisfactorily scratched. Clearly, that is not the case for you. =]!

 

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