WATERMARK

27 Sept:

Pain again today, but today I have no obligations; I can do nothing.

28 Sept:

Morning after morning, displacement dreams — homeless, jobless, petless — between homes, moving, vague acquaintances. This room is covered in a sheen of grey dust, less visible in the artificial light of evening than the pale light of morning when the sky is light but the sun unseen.

Already I can tell that today will be better. A few more days of nothing & perhaps I will feel willing to live again.

29 Sept:

I am feeling better than I have in months — is this the new meds kicking in, after a month — or just the usual ups & downs of the illness? Or three sunny days in a row; or the full moon . . .

First time in ages I don’t want to say, I’m tired. But here I am now, hoping for such luck tomorrow. & tonight, I swear, the moon was smiling.

03 Oct:

A few days of relief, and this morning, pain, my-old-friend.