When In Doubt, Do Nothing

Tonight the words come out all wrong, so instead of writing, I walk.

I walk and walk and walk and the moon rises high into the sky just like any other night, but tonight isn't like any other night.

Tonight my thoughts hover over me, torturing, questioning, trying to discover what is apparently unknowable to me.

When in doubt, do nothing.

Doing nothing is too painful, so I walk. I wish I could say I only have miles to go before I sleep, but that is not true. Sleep stands behind me, pulling my thoughts from the inside out and his face is familiar. It's just that I can't quite picture it. If I could do that, if I could see that clever grin winking at me, saying it is okay, then my bed would welcome me as the refuge it is.

So tonight I walk and the grass is damp from the dew and the stars hang in the sky and everything looks the same, but it isn't.

Tonight my words haunt me, asking questions I can't answer, aching to know what I cannot seem to figure out.

When in doubt, do nothing.

Nothing is the curse that gobbles up the seconds and minutes that grab hold of me and keep me awake.

So tonight I walk.

Tonight I feast on regrets that grow huge inside of me and I don't know what to do.

When in doubt, do nothing.