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The Monsters Under My Bed

Posted Dec 18 2009 12:00am

I never had that fear as a child.  I believe it’s because all of the Monsters were in my head.  Yes.  They still are and they’re back.

I can’t sleep.  This will be published later, but it has now been over two hours since I have taken my Seroquel/Quetiapine.  I should be passed out by now.  This has happened before, and when the case, I add a Valium/Diazepam to push things along.  I have done that, and now I merely feel sort of fuzzed out and drowsy.  I may have to take another.  And another…and another…and another…

Don’t worry.  Even though I do have enough Valium in my bathroom to knock out a horse, it would neither kill the horse nor myself.

I do not know if I could manage to count, or even identify all of the items to attribute to each “Monster” at the moment.  Yes, let’s play: “Name That Monster!” What do I win as a prize if I get one right? More than one right? Any of them right? A sliding scale quantity, or relative measurement of my sanity in return?

Or would that be too much to ask.

I know I’ve been pondering my mortality a bit of late.  Not because I’ve been sick a bit of late.  No, pondering it in a broader sense, shall we say? Maybe a bit too much, tonight.  Obviously other things, known or not, to what depth or degree acknowledged; these too have traipsed across my brain’s barren landscape, as well.  Prime bait for the hungry Monsters crouching, hearts beating, then salivating as they see my thoughts arise before them.

Always a mystery when the Monsters go away (for at least that instance), and by what means.  Equally so, for how long they will disappear.

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