my neck hurts (11:11)

my fiancee sleeps peacefully beside me while i thrash about, trying to put my neck into a semi-comfortable position. the base of my neck feels like shattered glass and my shoulders feel like opposing magnets as they pull and ache and droop. i wonder how long i can go before taking medicine, since my stomach seems to be angered by anything entering inside. it growls and rumbles and pops, an automaton that no one would stand in line for. i awoke around 5 am, unable to continue to sleep. its close to 11 now. that’s six hours with my thoughts. and the pulling. and the growling. my mouth is dry and my feet are cold. i daydream about drawing or writing a book. i think about old friends and the passage of time. i watch as the sunlight and the shadow of clouds wrestle to peek through the window. i grow irritated as little birds sing their shrill songs and disrupt all my pity. fine, i get it. i know that i am lucky. lucky to be alive and to feel my shoulders ache. lucky to make mistakes and lucky to play games and sing and smile and laugh and read and talk and be. if i keep looking forward, i’ll always see the sun. and so i will. because i can’t turn my neck anyway.