disynthetic

It smells like chocolate in my house, and I woke up exhausted this morning. Not, yet, midnight is approaching and I can't fight a drowsiness that makes me nod off for moments to startle awake. I feel no desire to go to sleep because that means today won't exist anymore. There is no longing for today to continue as any other day, but there is a nagging suspicion that I will eventually miss all of my days no matter how trivial and unremarkable. Great uncertainty marks my every, halting, step as the end of the day and the beginning of the next disguised tick-tock of time. Has no plan come to fruition better than the sneaking suspicion that there is more to life than the sine-wave of highs and lows? "Let no lesson go unlearned," and you just might miss all the old ones. I think about myself and what 'I' means-- exactly for 5 minutes a day, in the morning. But that is only because a spiritual man once told me I'd find everything I wanted to know that way. Maybe I need to accept a few more flabby bits of myself before that is going to work.