I have that feeling again.
Like I can’t stop moving. I want to stop moving, of course. It sounds amazing if I could only stop fucking moving. But for some reason, not moving is the only thing I can’t do. It’s not just a bad idea, it’s a dangerous one.
What will happen if I stop moving? I don’t actually know. I’m pretty sure I’ve never done it. But I’m also sure, it has to be bad.
What if I stop, then am lulled into a deep sleep and never wake up? What motion is the only thing keeping my joints lubricated and without constant movement, I rust to a halt? What if there is indeed something chasing me like in so many of my nightmares and the second there is silence I realize it, and in that realization, it gets me?
None of this matters when it really comes down to it, of course. It has caused me to pause for entirely too long as it is. I have to keep moving and pondering my need to keep moving is keeping me too still.