I am unable to sleep, and when I finally sit down all of the thoughts in my head that I wanted to write down go. So, here I am. Fuck you. I just can’t get to sleep. That’s not even the goal any more. I actually want to have a talk with you, about a lot of things. I guess all the things that I wanted to write down are just ego talking, so let’s see what we can work out between us. Maybe I’m just wound up because my Japanese exam didn’t go so well, I don’t know. But, well, let me put it this way, if there’s ever been anything you wever wanted to say to me then now would be a good time to say it if indeed the only time to say it. And I guesss vice versa, though right now I don’t have any words left in me, and that’s what seems to be the problem. For me at least. But, please, with all love and blessings, talk to me. I don’t know who I am what to do or where to go, I don’t even know if I have the strength to get there or any life left in me, or enough time to do it all. Or even time enough to do something, even just one thing that mattered. I suspect not, and that’s always been my problem. This nagging fear of dying before you get your work done coupled with not doing your work. Call it what you want, including fear and including laziness. But it’s there. So what do I do? Your work of course, but it’s not your job so much to decide what your work is or if you have enough time or not. If you begin you will have time. If you don’t begin then you will not have time. How do I begin. You just have. You begin by beginning. You begin every time you try to write something down. Even writing down little scraps in the morning. You begin when you have truly begun. You will feel it because you will have begun. And who says it has to be writing or just that, how about living your life and not being afraid of that? Do you not think that is part of your work too? It’s part of your work to live and to learn, not just to write. Every time you are kind to someone or teach them something, you have begun. Every time you make a difference in someone’s life, that was part of your work. You’ve helped a lot of poeple, even if you don’t see that yourself yet. And you’re still here, so you still have time to change. The moment is your life. Everyone — their life can be condensed right down to one moment, and that moment is the point of death. Or perhaps the thing that they see at the point of their death, one image from their entire life. Imagine that. You haven’t lived yours yet — the image that will be condensed down to account for your life. It’s still in your future, not in your past. But it has been there all along. And it is not even the point of your death, which you already knew about and feared so long that you got one day past the point that you’d feared. None of these things meant that much to you, or matter. What timing to get a nice message from someone you once taught? You think that’s just a coincidence? You want to be a great writer, well then teach the world by having something to say and having the courage to say it. Show us, lead by example. Say it. You are the only one who can say just exactly what it is that you have to say. Literally. Life is the end, not the beginning. Life is beginning to remember all the stuff that you did before you were born. That’s why you feel so old. Be nice even to the people that annoy you. Especially to them. This right here, this moment, is a kind of sleep. Listen to it. If you have nothing to say to me, then say what you have to say through me. And so they gave you sleep. There is a brown paper bag with your name on it. Sleep won’t lie down in bed with you, but it may come and find you at the table working. Now what does that tell you about sleep? How come suicide suddenly feels irrelevant? The world is so much bigger than you. And it will eat you alive if you let it. But that’s not what you get from these moments, this madness, this cure. You get that this space is yours to keep, you own it, insofar as you can be said to own anything at all. These sudden quiet moments in the middle of the night are yours and yours alone. We all have them, of course, but they belong to you in particular, each one in turn, We all have our own thoughts even if we are all in this together. Tiredness is not the enemy. Sleep is not the enemy. Life is not the enemy. Death is not the enemy. And dammit you are not the enemy. It’s funny, because you don’t see whare you are going with this, but we are waiting for you to catch up with us. You can stay awake if you want to, or you can sleep if you want to. It’s just that you more often than not choose to sleep. And who could blame you for that. And now, you even feel more for fictional characters than you feel for yourself. But they were put there to reflect you, for you to get the point from their stories. And you dismiss it as television. Words like rain or thunder a tapping on the keys. Noise from everyone else not sleeping but not minding who they keep awake. Noise from you even though you have to be at work soon. Feel better? All you have to do is breathe. Remember that. Hey, but wait a minute, we’ve hardly spoken. Yes, I know. It’s like premature ejaculation don’t worry it happens to everybody. Just kidding, we do have a sense of humour here too you know. You managed a state change now go get some sleep. And we will be write there with you in the morning, just get up as soon as we tell you to. You control it of course, but you know what I meant. It’s not for us to tell you what to do with your life, but if we have dreams to show you then maybe afterwards you should write them down?! Go to bed, it’s alright. That was kind of the point. We just wanted you to calm down a little. We will talk again soon, in the morning even. Just get some rest.
*This is an automatic writing session from an old notebook. Move along.
Time, my old enemy, my old friend. I know the struggle.