Monday, December 16, 2013


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....


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. 


  1. This was great stuff. I went years taking Benadryl and wine to knock myself out... mostly to not think, I believe. I was amazed when I started taking breaks from it, the way I remembered dreams again and sort of... cleared my head. I wake up before the alarm sometimes!

    But only sometimes. I still knock myself out a lot.

    1. I'll be on pills for the rest of my life. Kinda sad, but I've resigned myself to it. Sometimes I dream, sometimes not. I switched my schedule at work so that now I have to wake up at 4:30 every morning, but I'm off work by 11 AM. It's a trade off, but I love it. I just have to get used to it.....

  2. Meh, I drink wine before bed. Two glasses knock me out. (BIG glasses, lol) I average 4 maybe 5 hours of sleep a night. I know it's not healthy, but what can I do besides hit myself over the head and knock myself out?

  3. Rum, here. But still tons of thinking - some of it possibly even clever or constructive, but it's hard to be sure. It's almost completely forgotten by the time I reach Stage II sleep. Anyway, I doubt I'll ever express it as well as you did in this post. I'll keep trying, though.

  4. No amt of pills are curing my current night terrors. grr.