Again

I honestly don’t know what’s giving me more fits? My digestive issues, my heart flutters, my lightheadedness, or my complete exhaustion. Honestly it feels like I’m falling apart. In a way I wish I waa sedated, that way my mind wouldn’t run away with such rambling thoughts. I am doing my damnest to stay positive if for nothing else but to keep everyone else calm. But I’m too tired to feel such a phony bologna at the moment.
 
Like a tragic close to some fabled novel I can hear a flock of geese outside. Flying in formation between their morning and afternoon ponds. Like the closing chapter where the hero dreams his last, I lay down. Too melodramatic? Yeah, I tend to agree. But slowly I am awakening from the results of my own abuse. My body is slowly recovering from the violence of that last attack. Brought on by the desire to be someone I am not.
 
So with the room freezing and a heating pad planted on my belly, I wish for better days. But instead I know my wife worries while our autistic son is banging off the walls. I wonder if the reward for living a selfless life all this? Or am I really just the selfish SOB my mind has always told me? Write what you will as my epitaph, but keep me surprised. Because I’m sure by the morning, I’ll be as “bright-eyed and bushy tailed” as ever…again.