Penny For Thy Thoughts

I woke up at 6:30 this morning - a phenomenon which has not occurred in a year (probably even more). The culprit was a soft yelp from Dusty sitting up at the corner of my bed - his desperate cry for a run to the bathroom in his usual gentle manner.

I couldn't fall into a slumber after that. My mind's engine was already churning like that of an olden time train - fueled by loads of thoughts and images. Happy ones they were not - which is usually the case these days anyway.

More than half a decade ago, someone told me this when I was crying in her arms: "The next one will be better". I held on to her words because even I myself believed so. Harsh as it may sound, it had to be better and it couldn't be hard to be better considering the calibre of the first. And she was right. The next one did turn out better - in fact, way better than I could ever dream of. 

But better as it is, it slipped past me.

As I tossed and turned in bed, I couldn't help but wonder if the problem lies with me. I have a t-shirt that says 'It's Not Me, It's You' - just like the name of Lily Allen's latest album. Perhaps someone else should be saying that to my face instead. 

I have been thinking very hard over the last two months what I did wrong. I have sat at my desk, often times in a daze, unable to grasp the reality. I have nibbled at my fingernails - frustrated and impatient with myself for moving at such snail-speed.

I feel so lost.