October 3, 2019
My writing prompt for today says "everything's happening all at once." This isn't a complaint. This is a declarative sentence, as if I'm describing a tennis match: "The ball is going back and forth." I find myself asking close friends: People who are not chronically sad, how do they wake up in the morning? How do they feel? How do their brains process those first seconds of consciousness? How does it feel to not wish for 24-hour bedtimes? This isn't a call for help. This is just a question in the vein of: "How does the ball keep on?"