I am tired.
I am lying in bed, work clothes still on, bra unhooked, eyes barely open.
Today was long, fighting a migraine and the cold temperature, aching to go home and lie in bed. Of course, when the time to leave finally arrived, what would happen but get stuck in traffic for hours, then the rain pouring in a sudden storm once I reached my street.
It would be so easy to skip this now.
I cannot accept that I will lose so easily.
So I close my eyes and envision what I had earlier, earlier when I had the time to do this properly, on my laptop instead of now, typing away on my mobile. Earlier when the words flowed into my head, rich and descriptive but are now gone, like something fleeting, a moment, a memory, a life.
I close my eyes and I see a busy street. People loiter, hang about in strange costumes and colorful dyed hair. When they smile, their teeth are crooked. Their dark brown eyes turn into crescents. Men in suits with perfectly coiffed hair try to chat up women passing by. A man runs to catch the train, feet flying against the pavement. The sun beams–it is the afternoon and I am in Shibuya. Later, the lights will switch on, neon, loud, bright–advertising everything from restaurants to host clubs. It will be even busier then.
But for now, I am here. I raise my camera and take photos, street life and fashion, cosplayers and culture, my heart full, even as I listen to the cacophony around me, a language of which my understanding is minimal, almost forgotten.
I open my eyes.
I am in bed, still in my work clothes, still fighting: to keep awake and hold an oncoming fever at bay.
The difference between now and a few minutes ago is only the existence of these words, this entry.
I did not lose today.
Not today, laziness.