My Name Is Scribble

My usual, wide awake and 3:45 AM. Am I doing Okay? Cuddling up inside the blanket’ Blue quilt, I changed the color this year. No more reds, can’t take the pressure of red. There is enough anger in this country, this world. How can I survive? I have enough confusion for a lifetime .Our post office is losing mail. Organizer items I purchased. Gone. Never delivered. Tax documentation missing’ delivered to someone else. I might get them back I might not, see this is that red anger that I must eradicate from my brain. Does me no good to fester about this at a time I can’t sleep. On the other hand maybe writing about my confusion will assist in being able to sleep. Doubt it. See how cynical I am? I wonder what’s it’s like being dead. Not dumb just dead. I’m curious about that, confused I am guessing that organization and cleaning out clutter will help. What does clutter have to do with red or blue or even Valentine’s Day and wasn’t he the patron saint of something? Im down the Rabbit Hole now and now my brain picks up the Saint Valentine’s Day massacre. Gads can’t I think peace or sleep.What is it about The Dark of night that ripples around me. My friend had a cat called Cleo and she could meditate. Not Cleo but my friend. Cleo is not the real name for the cat and I’m not sure thot my friend was even a friend. My writing teacher Natalie Goldberg recommended we didn’t drink and write . I no longer drink wine, I’ve gotten sick from hard liquor. I get sick from many food choices especially from garlic. I want to stop writing, my eyes are burning and blurry. The rug on the wooden floor by my side of this bed has both blue and red weave. It is very dark outside and snow and ice and blue spruce trees that shiver like me. Backwards into blue tonight at 4:45 Am.