Headspace

When all you eat is 3 slices of toast, a cup of coffee, 2 olives and 4 baby tomatoes all day, when you toss and turn all night, when you think too much during daylight hours, when your to-do list piles up to the point of paralyzing you into inaction, when emails heap up in your drafts folder because you don't trust your judgement to say too little or too much, and when you hit writer's block - you can end up in a weird headspace.

Guess where I'm at tonight.

Those who know me well wouldn't recognize me in this place. And it doesn't strike often. Just every now and then.

It's the kind of headspace that has some serious heavy rock/metal pouring out of my considerably-good-quality computer speakers, drowning everything out. And the kind of headspace where I'm about to go run in the cold, dark night, as long as my legs and lungs hold out, wherever my feet take me - and I don't usually run. Perhaps I'm trying to run away from it, or just purge the skull & soul and start again. I don't know.

It's just that kind of headspace night. (It's a good thing I don't do drugs/alcohol or I'd likely be wasted around about now)