Waiting for Sunset (8)

Now I am about to finish the final draft of a book of poetry. I read about Virginia Woolf. The voices in my head seem to be that -- hearing my own thoughts, like an accidental PA system. I am used to them. Like the ringing in my ears. I am used to that too. I am always part of the conversation. But I have no control over what is being said.

But looking at the book again, it is a very important personal project. I like the seclusion. Even here in the city, I prefer a quiet reclusive life. I prefer to swim when it is bright and sunny, then I wouldn't feel cold. Maybe they are afraid. When I get better I’d like to go out a bit more. I’d like to take up bongo lessons. I will become insane without it.

These are why I am exhausted. I had a little corner out on the balcony in our home in Bohol. My cat Earl Gray liked to stay there with me. Sometimes I wonder if my large myomas have started shrinking. Then I'll train my dragon from a distance. Things seem to be getting better but I'm afraid to go back. It is truly a relief to be pain-free without medication. My husband is the dragon.