A Peaceful Sleep

I had a couple of hours alone to get some good writing done. When I went upstairs to get a drink of water after an hour of non-stop writing without a break, I could feel my rosacea flushed face warm. I was excited. I began daydreaming about getting my novel published and the big book tour I'd get to go on to read before audiences like my idol David Sedaris. I'd make tons of money and stay in luxurious hotels and travel to cities I would have otherwise not had a chance to visit. We could pay off not just the credit cards, but our house. We could buy a Prius. Two Priuses. Priui? So I wouldn't have to stop every few seconds to autograph something for a fan, I'd have to start wearing sunglasses (ooh, I could get Lasik surgery so I wouldn't have to wear glasses anymore) and a hoodie when I'd go to the grocery store when my maid was on vacation because I'd be such an awesome employer I'd give my help great benefits. But then I snapped to. Who am I writing this Mental Wellness blog novel for? Is the most important thing I could achieve by writing this story riches and fame? Or is the most important thing I could achieve by writing this story writing it? Getting it out. Sharing with others so I don't feel so burdened with the sadness and selfish with the joy. This kind of awakening, which was achieved ironically through much introspection, is for sharing. No fair keeping it to myself. So here I go, back to the basement to shoot it up into the clouds for you. It's not quite a luxurious hotel, but it's not like I need more than my computer, my time, my family, my friends, and my bed to get a peaceful sleep.