impossibilities

Thoughts swirl in every possible prepositional position through the grey matter between my ears. Always.
If they were electrical impulses, they would light up the grey 'sky' like lightning streaks
on a recorded loop whose rhythm is just slightly off, but never turning off.
Not even while I sleep.

The emotions I feel are spurs of energy that carry their charge
and jolt through my body -- usually straight through my heart.
There is no predictability to the tide, to the ebb and flow.
Even neap tides are large, and largest when my body's energy is drained.

It never ceases to amaze me how tiredness
seeps
leaches
melts
whispers insidiously
sidles up and overwhelms even the firmest of resolves; makes all situations seem worse.
Fatigue opens the door to emotional entropy; sweet slumber does not always close it. 

At times when the tide is out, when the sandbags under the eyes are stacked down to the bottoms of the molars, and some of the sandbags have burst and gotten in the eyes and the grain is just too much to bear, it seems impossible to stop the emotions from overwhelming. The sadness is sadder, stronger...it's like the swamp of sadness from Neverending Story is real, living inside me. Hounds of sadness bay, the echoes growing nearer. Sometimes it feels like I can hear their snarling and they're nipping at my heels.

But sometimes the relief of going to bed before you're too exhausted to sleep, just because you can, is enough to make the hounds quiet, the swamp evaporate just a little, and the sandbags a little less full, and life turns around a few degrees -- enough so you can see all the good things in life a little more clearly through the tired fog, and that sometimes relaxing isn't as impossible as it seems.