4 little lines

Every single minute

That I spend

Out of bed today

Is a victory

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Maladie

There is a kind of pain where every stiff and spasming muscle in the body aches. 

The joints feel like they are melting and the bones being pulled until they rip away from each other. 

Every movement sparks electric shooting pain. 

Every part of the body that is touched feels like it’s crushed against granite.  

When upright the blood pounds in your head and the entire world spins. 

This is the kind of pain that keeps you in bed for days and makes it impossible to sleep at night.

This is a kind of pain that is so hard to see through that nothing else matters. 

There is nothing but the pain. 

Aside

I can’t come up with a clever title today

I feel terrible today. 

I’m tired and sore. 

I’m moving about a foot and a half a minute. When I’m lucky enough to be standing. 

My brain is tired and keeps urging me to curl up into a tiny ball on my bed covered with a fuzzy blanket and watch just ridiculously mindless TV until I can close my eyes and sleep at a not completely unreasonable early bed time. 

I am not doing this. 

I am laying on my couch half covered by an afghan trying to accomplish my goal of writing something everyday. 

I tend to write on days I feel okay about the days when I feel terrible. I don’t think this is what I should do. 

I need/want to push past the fuzz in my brain and the weight of my eyes. To shake off the leadenness * of my limbs and bend the pain sore joints of my fingers to form the words tumbling around in my head. 

On days like this I imagine my brain as a dark foggy gray forest running up to tall black jagged cliffs and thrashing crashing ocean.* Everything is just gray. And loud and heavy. And focusing on any one thing feels impossible. 

Pulling words out of this sort of brain is difficult. 

I have gone as far as I can today. Until tomorrow then. 
* I think I’m going to start keeping track of words I make up. But definitely not today. 

* Like this but not as pretty.