I like the feeling of imminent sleep. The heaviness of lids, the languor of limbs, the delicious fight I cannot win.
I like falling asleep in the middle of watching something. It could even be a movie that I’m invested in, but that doesn’t stop the slow sinking into oblivion.
I have come to look forward to the pleasure of those few seconds when I become aware of my absolute surrender.
So, by the end of the year I have turned into a person who gets embarrassed by emotions.
I’m not blaming 2016 for anything. Celebrity deaths and political surprises seem to have caused a lot of anguished hand-wringing among online humans; but from my vantage point life has not suddenly become worse, nothing has really changed. It was always this bad and this good.
But in this arbitrary boundary of time, I have turned into a person who gets embarrassed by emotions. This realization does not sit lightly on my mind. I would have preferred to remain masochistically emotional. I would have preferred that my bravado be just that – a thin veneer under which you would find me cowering and crying.
I suspect I may be writing now only to reclaim at least a small dollop of aliveness that might still be lingering in there, somewhere. Let me reflect, for a moment, on the foolishness of trading peace for torment.
Might take a while.