I have this ridiculously happy feeling bursting in my chest.
It's the weirdest happy I've ever felt.
And I think it's called pride.
Tonight I polished off another 2,000 words or so in my quest for NaNo and now have only 840 words to go.
It is a pittance of words.
A flash story.
An hour's canoodling on the computer.
This marathon is so close to being over that I can literally taste it. (It tastes remarkably like chicken.)
I could finish it tonight. I could.
But I want to be fresh when I walk down the last 840 words. I want to go slow, take in the scenery, wave to my friends with their pom poms cheering me on. I want to savour the moment as I cross the finish line and then I want to do something really amazing to celebrate.
I don't know what that is because right now nothing feels big enough to celebrate this victory in the style that it deserves.
Never in my whole life have I shown this much discipline.
Never have I written so much.
Tomorrow I will celebrate a victory that is more than just winning a silly writing contest. Tomorrow I will celebrate a victory over a war that has been waged within myself.
But tonight ... I will sleep.