a tiny little slice
of insomnia

You offered, I accepted.

Just a tiny piece, I said, and as is so often the case when you mutter that phrase, you get much more than you actually wanted.

So here I am, dark room, eyes wide open. No that’s not true, eyes closed, mind wide open.

Mindful, no, mind full, off to the races, thoughts circling around the perimeter of my brain, intermingled with worry, frustration, fatigue. Thoughts of sleep you only have when you cannot.

The clock is ticking, no not ticking, it is digital, but the numbers, they keep changing one minute at a time, and that is much, much slower than my thoughts.

The moon peeks through the cracks in the blinds, at this hour brighter than the sun, in my eyes, in my face, and the blinds may be closed, but still, she finds her way in.

I am awake, so very awake, digesting this slice, much larger than what I requested, staring by turns at the ceiling and the inside of my eyelids. Eyes open, I see black. Eyes closed, I see plaid, blue daisies, a bokeh of red and blue dots.

Yes, I am awake and everyone else in the world, my world, is asleep, animals at rest, birds quiet, there may be crickets but the windows are closed, it is silent. I accepted this slice not knowing how it would grow throughout the night. It is 3:30, then 4:00.

And still, I am awake and dawn is tap tap tapping at the corner of my eye and it is no longer night, the moon has run past my window, laughing, and there is the sun who I am not ready for and should be welcoming, entertaining. I hide my head beneath the covers and pretend I can’t hear that knock upon my door.

And then perhaps, one hour, maybe two, of sleep that is not sleep, but eyes closed with mind running, and then eyes open with mind foggy, and day is here, bellyaching, asking why I didn’t let it in. And sitting up, too quickly, I conk my head on the edge of morning because it is here whether I like it or not.

Ready or not.

Here I come.

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of insomnia”

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