It was a few nights ago, or maybe I should say mornings ‘cause I don’t go to bed until the sun’s crawling over the mountains. Anyway, my head rested on my pillow but I couldn’t get comfortable, until I hopped out of bed, turned my light on, and grabbed my journal. I didn’t put on my glasses but I didn’t feel the need; I scribbled furiously, letting my thoughts out until I felt okay again. I put the journal back in its spot on the shelf and finally fell asleep. My ramblings are nearly incoherent, but I want to present them as they are, garbled and raw and weird. I don’t think I say anything poignant here; I just had to jot stuff down. I used to write in my journal a lot more often. I should go back to basics.