Force

3am solitude returns. It's been a long time since I've been here. Normally these days the girlfriend comes in with me.
This time I'm alone.
I don't feel alone though. There's these...forces, right? Everything is a force, of some kind. At least, it is at this hour. The ache in my throat from smoking too much, that's a force. The song that I'm listening to, sending ethereal beats rattling from top to tail of my body and causing me to twitch and spasm? That's a force. My heartbeat is a force, my brainwaves are a force, the lifeforms slumbering around me are a force.
The whole wide world out there is a greater one.
I feel like...I feel like how I imagine surfers must feel at the top of a great big wave. The sea is going to break on the shore, and nothing can be done to change that - nothing should be done to change that. To try and divert this force would be foolish. I don't know what this force is. It's time, I think. Time and the inertia of the world, which doesn't stop spinning just because somebody spilled blood. Forces are being extinguished all the time and the world doesn't take a damn bit of notice.
My forces - this song, winding down, the breath in my lungs, the lifeforms around me - could be snuffed out in an instant, and that big ol' wave would just roll over the top of us as if we never existed. I'm like that girl from The Incredibles who can make force-fields - but only barely, and only enough to save her in emergencies, and I just don't know if I have the juice to save myself this time.
I suppose I just need more practice.
And less drugs.
And more force.
I don't know. It might be nice under the waves, but I'm going to follow the script and take my pills and go to bed and wake up late and continue the farce.