So, I forgot how hopeless I am at sleeping without pills.
It’s basically just trying to wait patiently until exhaustion sets in.
I always noticed this and thought it was some great big flaw whenever I shared a bed;
lying awake, heart pounding, holding someone soft and pretty and they blissfully breathe the cool spring air while their eyelids flutter
And I just lie still, hands roaming, breath in that panicked variety of masquerading sleep, every motion a parlay to an unconscious party because quite simply, the night is long and I usually don’t have such fantastic company
but they always were asleep. I get to watch their chests rise and fall and I try to match theirs with mine, as a sort of game to substitute sheep.
maybe I’m able to sneak off and wander around the place- and my footsteps feel heavy, like the character I’m playing is a lead shroud.
Unclothed, roaming, too tired to project anything but ease and acceptance as I rummage through a refrigerator full of food that isn’t mine, a library that doesn’t compliment me, or a house that I don’t belong in-
I sulk around like a guest, or an adopted friend. Like someone who can make up for his shortcomings with congeniality and a smiles.
I sulk around taking in the moment with the weight the veil will someday be cast aside and hung out, only to serve as a trophy of what my imagination, luck, and self-deception can bring about.
Bare feet on kitchen floors feels like you’re wading in a puddle; the way you softly cup tile with the soles of your flesh mirrors a careful hiker avoiding splashing around like a child. The cold river is still but manages to make a sound- but as you slip your toes through the waves like a dagger, you still drown out the tides’ calling.