Insomnia
Sleep. Those moments when nothing matters. Adrift in a sea of dreams that only feels like reality. I miss when I dream. I dreamed last night. Eight hours of sleep. Eight hours of sleep for an insomniac. You don't know what it's like. Less than 30 all week. I hate it. I just turned off the hum of the air conditioner. My feet are like icicles. I want to sleep. I just can't. Bones ache. I slept last year, arms wrapped around another, it felt like eternity, I'd awake again and again. I wasn't asleep at all. I know I'm physically tired now, I am misspelling everything, spell check for free writing, is it legal? A price to pay for the sleepless nights. The incarceration of darkness and life not moving at 4am. I hear cars or a neighbor stirring, but they aren't part of my world. I need something, to make me tire. I miss the days when knees were strong and I would run for miles. I would tire and refuel. I have nothing to refuel from or for. I miss the conversations, the sex, the falling into that stupor. Nothing lasts, not even dreams. I loved my dreams, chased, battered and bruised, knowing I was asleep, there was no fear. I miss those dreams holding hands. Insomnia wipes away those fantasies, with sleep either so deep you can't dream or sleep so light you don't have time. I want to go where the air is clear and the sounds of the rain on the trees soothes the soul. I want to wake to that smell...to roll over and know someone is there. I want to wake up and walk alone in the grass, down to water and back up. I want to be awake before all and then sleep while they are awake. I want to know it's safe. I want to go to bed and awake with my mother well. A time before all this sleeplessness started. I think about that night, her heavy breathing and she was gone. Fourteen hours the next night. That's how much I slept. Relief of her passing and her release from pain. I haven't slept like that since and I won't ever again. I slept well last night out of sheer exhaustion. I'm lying to anyone who reads this, I fell asleep at 7am and slept until the mid afternoon. A wasted day. Another victim of my nocturnal life. I want to talk to someone, look into their eyes and hold their hand. I want a kiss goodnight on my forehead like my mother would give. I want to sleep and awaken to eggs and toast and love. I lie, staring at the ceiling, knowing....
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