The last 18 hours were free fall through time: one decision after the next on an autopilot with sunrise activation.
Lying in my bed—feeling my lower back tension ease—is the first time I feel present all day. Taking time to process the details around me, lights from nearby buildings shine through my curtains. Floorboards creak. Walls groan. All sounds I couldn’t have heard earlier.
A crescendoing itch on my back stirs. Shimmying is the first solution. It wears off then rages back; I use my nails to fight it. Lying down on gritty sandpaper seems more appealing than lying on soft sheets. I rarely get the scratching just right. The second I overdo it a sliced pain echos in my head. Fingernails turned to unwieldy scalpels cut through the patches of itch. I can feel the lightly raised red, irritated grooves on my shoulder blade taking shape.
Small aches come and go. The moment I think about my knee I can feel it twitch. When I think about my foot soles they feel sore. The blanket feels soft on my legs as I rub my feet together. After a dozen minutes on my back, I flip to my side.
Lonely cars hum outside the window.
My thoughts, anxieties, and stress hover delicately. Everything can be dealt with in the morning.
Gotta watch out for that overscratching—it’ll get you every time!
Seriously though…this is beautiful. I usually don’t do this, preferring instead to keep the incessant stimulation going via podcasts in my ear till the sandman finally pays a visit. But now I want to. Here goes nothing. Literally.
This vividly portrays the exhaustion and sensory overload of a busy day. The contrast between the frenetic pace and the quiet awareness of lying in bed is well-drawn. Sounds like you deserve a good night's sleep!