I am once more watching the morning from the wrong side of dawn, but at least it has been a while since last time. It sneaks up on me so suddenly this time of year, because the sky hardly has any time to be dark during the short nights.
I would like to be able to sleep, to just lie under my window and breathe in the summer air and listen to the birds singing their joy for morning and drift off, but it hurts so much I am unsure if I can. At least I can still feel my legs, right now. As uneasy it makes me to hurt so much all over, it is much more terrifying when I lose all sensation in them. I know the nerve endings are all messed up, but is that really supposed to happen so frequently? I am not exactly sure of how frequently, though, so I think I need to start writing things down again. Everything floats together a lot these days, and it is so very difficult to focus through the medicine haze. These are green pills times, which means morphine. I do not like what morphine does to me, awake or asleep.
I love what birdsong does, though. To wake up to it, or fall asleep; it makes me happier to hear it, the song of joy of daylight. If nothing else, the world seems glad to have another morning. It is a sound of joy and life, and it is soothing.