09.11.03 - 5:45

that make up a day are scattered, diffuse. we forget more than we remember and we lose more than we gain. i set my alarm for 5:00 am and it's sort of my own inside joke because i know i'll be awake. how many times in the night do i turn to the clock, hoping the morning's come? when does the morning come? i look and it's 2, 3, 4. but surely you can't be awake all night, they tell me. and maybe it's true, maybe i'm snatching bits of sleep here and there out of the night like butterflies in a net. all i know, though, are the numbers on the clock that glows blue, the changing colors of the sky, the cars rushing by my window (even on a weekday at 3 or 4 am there are still a few), the curtains (so light!) breathing with the wind.

this week it didn't happen so much and i didn't feel one way or another about it. and then today it came back, the feelings tagging along like a parasite, a piece of gum on your shoe. the first question to ask is "when is it acceptable to get in to work?" and we've answered this question already, 7:00 seems to be the time. the next question is "when is it acceptable to get out of bed?" and this is more nuanced, less obvious, hard to pin down. i finally decide that there isn't any specific time that's too early and i swing my legs over the bed at 4:00 am. and then i think, no, there ARE times when it's too early, it's just silly. so i wait until 5 which sounds more normal because i know people who get up at 5. it doesn't sound crazy. i shower and eat and dress and wander around my apartment wondering what i can do to make the time pass. i don't look at any clocks. i don't wear a watch. every time i feel hours have passed it's only a minute later. and i think, how appropriate that every second should drag on so long, that time should be so unknowable, that life should stretch so thin.

i'm thinking about my second breakfast now. i eat two because the first is small and comes so early. sometimes i eat breakfast number two at home, but usually i eat it at work. you know what comes in the middle, right? one pill, two pill, red pill, blue pill.

i get my things together, forgetting the important things, remembering the worthless ones. what would you grab if you were in a burning building? your family, your pets, your priceless photographs, the bronzed baby shoes. what would i grab? i can't say. i can imagine freezing in place, hearing my heart beat louder than my breath. and then what, someone pushes me or the heat grows more intense or something else happens that wakes me up and gets me moving. but then what, i'm in this burning house, the fire's licking up the wallpaper, turning it black and i'm thinking about how i always wanted black wallpaper. i didn't think it would be too depressing, it was just everyone else. i can't say who's right in the wallpaper debate. return to the flames. pieces of walls are crumbling, the wooden beams catching fire and unfurling it like a rug, windows shattering from the pressure, melting from the heat. i'm standing there. i forget that myself sometimes. i can't think what to grab. i'm standing there forever.

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