New Day

I don't want to open my eyes. If I open my eyes it means the night is over and it's a new day. If I open my eyes I have to admit to myself that I'm awake, which is not what I want to do. I don't want to wake up right now.

Why is it that the most tired moments of my life happen right after I have spent literally hours sleeping? How does that make any sense? I am not my hungriest right after I finished eating. Nor am I my dirtiest right after a shower.

I wish I could wake up and throw my covers off, jump out of bed like a kangaroo. I'm awake, I'm up, I'm ready!

Instead I'm sitting in class an hour later, a yawning sloth, because I am so tired.

[[today I have coffee and spend my first class feeling anxious for no apparent reason. That's some sort of psychological problem right? Unexplained anxiety?

Reasons to be stressed:

1. I am writing a novel (just finished)
2. I have a term paper to write and research for (hopefully not in that order)
3. I have a take home final exam
4. My room is a mess (how many pairs of underwear do I have anyway. And why do people call them pairs of underwear. They don't come in pairs. They are singular)
5. It is almost Christmas
6. I had a presentation in Italian during my first class (so yeah, maybe warranted anxiety after all)

There I said all the things I am stressed about.

Oh, also I'm single.

I think I mentioned that in my last post.

Yup. Single. And loving it.

Anyway moving on.]]

Don't open your eyes. If you open your eyes you have to admit consciousness.

Flashback:

I'm in Italy. It's night and my professor is going to sing us some Italian folk songs.

We just spent the day driving around southern Italy to end up at an empty beach resort where we spent the afternoon cavorting in the sea. Not the ocean, mind you. The sea.

I've had too much sun, too much good food, too many laughs with friends.

And my professor, my sweet professor, who is too kind even for his own good, is singing Italian folk songs and strumming the guitar.

All my friends, all these Italian students sitting around me with their sun kissed cheeks and their full bellies and their laughs, they are all listening.

I start to cry. I can't help it. I don't even understand half of the lyrics because some of them are in Italian but I am listening to the guitar and the sound of my professor's voice and I am looking at the other happy students and it is a warm spring night in southern Italy.

I am crying and I don't want to be. I want to be filled with joy but now I'm over full and it's overflowing from my eyes and down my cheeks.

I am crying and wiping away big salty tears as covertly as I can. I have no idea who knows, and I desperately want them to ignore it if they do know.

I am crying and my eyes have once again betrayed me.

Don't open your eyes. It's not morning yet.