I was aware

That tonight would be a night that I'd hardly sleep.
Eyes rimmed with tears, body aching from tossing and turning,
mind at a standstill.
As quiet as the night. As restless as an unused day.
My mind running in circles. Can't think. Can't talk.
And I'm expected to speak? All the while, I am holding my tongue from being malicious.
Or angry. Or upset. Or confused.
But, in all actuality, I'm not a malicious, angry, upset, or confused person at all.
Not even enough to get off the phone, and not to the point that I'd say something I'd regret.
So again, I am at a standstill. If I was a cynic, I'd have a short hair cut, cigarette in one hand, coffee in the other, blowing away all my frustration into the room and out the window. But, I'm not. Could I be as Eliot's Prufrock? Trying to trade my sophistication and status for the knowledge of falling in love or growing old? Reasoning sometimes has nothing to do with love. Sometimes, however, it can make or break it. And as beautiful as the beckoning of the mermaid's call is, it is not reality. The is the realm either above or below it, broken by the human voice.