Stream of Consciousness

There are nights when the hurt comes, and like a scared kid my eyes plaster open: wide, unyielding, and afraid. I used to have nightmares a lot as a child and when I say nightmares I mean I was scared to sleep, body running cold sweat, shivers an excessive coolant, and nothing really makes sense at three a.m. When I say three a.m. I mean I still haven’t slept, I lie awake because I can never get a break in my sleep. Never able to get just the right level of cool for my legs and see how swaddling the heat was. I’m an insomniac of anxiety. I don’t know a lot emotions. I don’t know how to say “I am afraid to sleep because my dreams are always of you.” I don’t know how to say, “No one makes me feel like you do, waking up on fire and afraid and recklessly tired.” I don’t know how to say, “The monsters in my sleep cling to me.” I mean I am afraid to sleep because that one boy who I thought showed me love was mean to me. I don’t know how to say, “Everyone I have loved turns out to be a nightmare.” I don’t know how to say, “This isn’t a dream I can wake up from.” I mean the fire was real and I don’t know how to say, “I was the one who kindled the flame.” I mean there are nights when the hurt comes, and I don’t how to say, “I am more adult than child, afraid of a reality that is reckless and a gaudy showmanship of fear over self.” I don’t know a lot of emotions and when I say I don’t know I mean just hold me anyway.

 

Thirty-nine down, thirteen to go…

what-to-say-when-you-dont-know-what-to-say
Photo Credit: Geeky and Sassy
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