Monday, December 16, 2013

Conspiracy

My back hurts. But I can't get comfortable.

My thinks have a pattern as I wait for chemical sleep to shut down my senses. 

A weak glow from the living room, though I know the lights are off. It's the second night in a row I've seen it. My noggin never makes it far enough to decide what it might be. 

The covers are heavy, despite the thermostat set at 75. Four blankets, one curled around me and shoved under my chin. Soft. I crinkle the sheet in a fist and weave it between my legs.  My legs. I need to shave. I feel it when I kick them to grab the comforter with my toes. I'll shave tomorrow. 

Is there anyone left in the First World who sleeps without pills? Does anyone get a decent night's think before their eyes close anymore? My thinks are rotten lately. Gummy and chewy.  The words are elementary. I'm ashamed. 

Vaguely, I remember a girl who used to live in this body. It was only a year ago.  Maybe less. When the words flew unchecked. When she could fly with them. When they were lit from within by nothing less than magic- simple, unworldly, single-wide magic. 

But she is stiff now. Her backs hurts. When she can't own up to who she is, and who she is not, she switches to third person. Maybe it'll hurt less. Less responsibility to take. She plays with her lids, fighting. 

Shit, did I really say that? Or write that? Or do that? Who will remember? Who will forget? Will she forget when her pills wear off? 

Oh, if she could only be so lucky. To forget. 

To forget. To take it back. To rest. The way baby boys rest when their only memories of mommy raising her voice are in laughter. Never anger. 
'
That rest. 

That's the rest she wants. 

But the glow is still there. A weak light in the hallway, reflected from somewhere in the living room. Perhaps he forgot to close his laptop, she thinks. 

They're coming to take me away, she thinks. 

..... when i got on my knees and begged you not to leave because i'd go berserk....

Shit. 

There's that tic in her cheek again.  

The waves break on her earlobe in the dark. She wonders if it's a conspiracy.

Sleep never comes. 
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