I lay on my bed closing my eyes, counting 1..2..3.. “Any seconds now,” I tell myself waiting to fall asleep. But I fail. Another day, as I fail again. To fall asleep, to write. My insomnia and writer’s stuck moment is back on track and I don’t know if I’m to be happy about being normal again or sad that I don’t have that I need to write vs I need to sleep moment anymore. It’s going to be like this for another few days to weeks, so I guess I better get hang of it.
What I wish right now to have is Caffeine. I would prefer milk tea but that’s not possible. I’m on my tea limit so I have to be okay with a cup of mango juice. I wish I was not though. I wish I could gulp down cups of tea or rather enjoy each cup with precise moments cherishing on the drink. The juice ain’t that bad but I would rather have what I wish. But I’m sure that won’t help me either given the situation.
And it gets worse you know. When you are being an insomniac and not being able to write, these ideas and stories come to your mind. The images of a girl with plaited hair and white dress walking down the damp, small , spooky gullies of Kathmandu Valley comes in front of your eyes but you can’t seem to do anything about it. You can’t get up and write because you have no idea what to write about. Nor can you go back to sleep.
And now I can’t think of stuffs to write about. I still wish to have tea though. But I will have to be back in my bed because tomorrow, I need to be an early bird. And tomorrow hopefully, words will find their way back to me.