Getting out of bed. Getting in a hot bath. Getting back in bed.
This is my routine about three days a week. An outsider looking in may see total laziness, or maybe total sadness...they would also see old mascara holding my eyes closed and a dusty nightstand littered with near empty chapsticks.
The reality is...I'm quite happy to wallow. It's my time alone to be comfortable and shut out the world. Which can be quite loud and angry the other four days of the week. There are days that I can't ball myself small enough under the covers and some tears may soak the pillow case that I'm not even sure is close to clean.
But out of that, I laugh at myself - I can be quite funny sometimes.
I even relish in the fact that no one cares where I am or what I'm doing during that time. I'm not needed.
And not being needed is as just as much of a fucking rush as being needed is. And I will get on my soap box here and tell the world (all zero of you reading this) that it's okay to be on an island of you for a few hours. The world can wait because you will be there when it's time. The world belongs to you...and day naps are better than the sex I'm not having.
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