And I sat, waiting, pondering on the feeling of water cascading down my insides to puddle in an empty stomach.
I waited, with a sense of anticipation and desire for release. I waited, with words building up in my mind and a song stuck on three lines playing over and over in my head.
I waited for my eyes to settle and my thoughts to become real. I straightened up, consciously cleaning my posture and reminding myself of improvement.
and still I waited.
I flitted away, contenting myself with various tiny activities. I tried to push, to work hard, with the numbers that echo around me here. I ignore the subnotes drifting through the stagnant air.
I waited and tried a smile. My lip cracks down the middle, quick and unbelievably searing pain, before my tongue moistens the wound. I put on chapstick as I wonder how much longer til it heals and wonder if it ever will.
I thought of dinner, the stalks of celery and cuts of lunch meat, lacking any bread of any kind, and how I feel about it. Happy to not be in pain any more, disappointed I can't eat sweets, happy my diet was forced to become so wonderfully natural.
I waited, and I fixed my schedule to reflect my rehearsals, feeling little bubbles of excitement for life itself.
and still I wait for inspiration.
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