Sometimes I’m Write

Somewhere I felt something for some reason, it was half way there.

Somewhere between Paris and London, I reached the halfway point revising my book, Rolling for Coal.  I say somewhere because I honestly had no idea where I was.  At one point I told my wife that I was almost home, turns out I was still in France with over two hours to go.  Somewhere seemed to be exactly where I was.  I know, that sentence is hard to swallow but I’m sticking with it.  I was utterly somewhere.

So I was somewhere and I reached the halfway point.  That had to mean something.  I say something because I really had no idea what it meant.  I took a snap shot of my page count, and that was something.  It couldn’t mean nothing, so it meant something and that much I knew.  I’ll stand by that statement, too.

Right, so I was somewhere feeling something and for some reason I was just not into the particulars.  I can tell you I knew exactly why, it was for some reason that I didn’t care to know why I was somewhere feeling something.  It couldn’t be without a reason, that I felt that way, there had to be some reason.  So for some reason I didn’t care.

Bloody hell, I was exhausted.  My eyes were about shut, how did I even feel something? Somehow.  That’s how.

And that was when I fell asleep, somewhere somehow feeling something  for some reason.

My son was born 5 weeks ago, how long will this last?

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Categories: Bloody Hell, Creative Writing, Rolling for Coal, Short Story

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

1 reply

  1. Now that you’re a dad that will take precedence, so as far as everything else is concerned, you’ll be sleep deprived and not caring about something sometime somewhere except him until he’s full-grown and off on his own. Sorry to break it to you. 🙂

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