I've been in bed since December.
I was in a hospital bed for a while, then a recliner, but really, I've been left mostly to my own thoughts as this illness has ravaged my life.
I'd been fatigued for a while.  Years.  Looked into all sorts of things, nothing really made sense, except maybe apnea.  After yesterday's trek to the ER and the stupid machine beeping, it may still make sense- but I also recognize that much of this is from my stupid syndrome.  The one that stole me.
Husbeast asked if I had thought about writing.  I said no- but I have.  Except I don't want to write to make something of it, I don't think I have anything important enough to say.  I don't think many care.  So I'm just going to write, just to write.  If someone finds it, cool.  Otherwise, this will just be for me.
In surfing Pinterest the last few days I've found writing prompts, so at least for now, I'll probably follow those, if for no other reason than to get me started and give me a creative outlet.  So, here goes nothing?