I sit
My insomnia greets me like an old friend
Sits beside me as though my illness is winning and she’s paying her respects
Night after night
I wish she would hold me and cradle me to sleep
To bring some reassurance and comfort
to the racing thoughts and defiant delusions
littering the battlefield that is my body
Instead, she burrows deep inside of me
Finds the spaces between where I am fine and
Where I feel too much and not enough
Where I am strangled by my own complacency
Where I am a lost cause and unloved
And she lingers there
Her fingers shaking loose the parts of me that I would soon forget.
She remembers.
Says that I am the keeper of my own stories
That forgetting is akin to denial
That being honest with myself is all part of owning my own heart
And I listen to her.
We are wide awake ruminating on the mistakes made long ago that are likely forgotten by everyone else.
Reliving horrors that should remain unspoken
Thinking of those that are gone and those that will eventually leave me.
We play the what if game and mourn for the life I had hoped to lead
Before pain was the currency for any worthwhile endeavor.
I sit.
I say I will be better tomorrow
Write the day off as though it is an anomaly
As if the morning light beaming through that window
Will exorcise the demons that lay deep
It never does
Me and my demons don’t play well with others
Isolation is the safest bet
If only things were different
If only I could trust more
If only my hands were useful for more than just dancing across a screen
I had dreams
Goals to aspire to
I had hopes for myself along with others
But instead of moving toward something more
I sit
The macabre and the maudlin becoming mundane
as they dance through my mind
Invoking dark humor and darker honesty
Everything will eventually end
I sit
Bathed in the glow of that artificial light
And I feel as though that light
Might be all that’s left of my own.
May morning come soon to change my mind.
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