An Open Letter To My Internal Proceedings

Last night I came home, lay down in my bed, and fell asleep before 7; fully clothed and oblivious to the world.

I dreamt of nothing. I woke a few times only because of the sweat forming on my brow.

Mentally I stumbled awake around 2 in the morning, followed by physically rolling out of my bed-- in search of a toilet.

I returned to my room and haphazardly proceeded to undressed myself completely.

I got back into bed only to realize.... I was fully awake.

So of course I've just spent the past 3 hours replaying life in my head and watching the sky turn purple outside; feeling the onset of panic slip in and out of my throat as it often has for the past few months.

Taking deep breaths, massaging my chest; poking at mosquito bites, fiddling with my hair... anything subtle but real to wake myself up if I were really still asleep; if I'm really just dreaming of wakefulness.

I'm not.

At least, I don't think so.

From time to time I forget if I'm awake or asleep (or is it that I've lost the ability to tell the difference).

From time to time I wonder if I'm dead.

I wonder if I'm in some strange purgatory. Sometimes things are just so ridiculous, presumptuously daft, sometimes all the coincidences are too perfectly fitted together that I'm unsure if it's reality or just a trick of the mind.

I've hit a point of consciousness where the edges of my reality have melded with the edges of surreality, fantasy; the unknown.

I was feeling so good a week ago.

But that was probably just manic.