I Am Writing A Novel

I have started to write a novel over at my other blog. Here´s a preview: 

The darkness is surrounding me. Everywhere I look, I am surrounded by complete darkness. I try to grasp some light at the usual spot in the ceiling, but there is no way that this is going to save me tonight. As always, you are here by my side. Your breathing is a little heavier tonight. You are making those small squeaky noises, noises that only you create. Slowly I take my right arm up from under the blanket, I find the big white pillow by the bed, like I always do. I use both my hands to straighten it and to get it in just the right position, then pulling my body up, like I am half sitting and half lying down. It seems that someone just turned your volume a little louder. I keep trying to find my spot in the ceiling, but it is too dark.

At this time, I find my right arm just laying there on my side all warm and alone. It’s almost as if it is an entirely different body part.  I move it towards my lips, and slowly start to rub my upper lip. I am so incredibly dry, and I am feeling thirsty. The rest of my body is shivering, I am feeling something cold and warm simultaneously, a feeling that started close to my toes and slowly kept coming closer and closer to my head. I have been laying here, stiff as a corps or stiff as a carrot or at least I haven’t moved for a long time. My thoughts are slowly drifting away, towards a new day tomorrow. What will my activities be, what will a new day be like, will there ever be a tomorrow?

At this moment I realized that I just didn’t care. I didn’t care about the world, about life, about family, about anything at all. It was a time when my thoughts were focused on goals and hopes, everything was directed towards the future. Some sort of happiness. A lonely happiness, but even so, it was some sort of happiness. This was all in the past. Now, I am just empty.  There are no more thoughts. I am just shivering. There might never be any thoughts. I just don’t care.