The feeling of not sleeping is comforting.
It tempts, to attempt to, drown out the unknown foreign emotion.
I want to not feel, but that’s not an option.
Which leaves me playing Russian roulette with my conscience.
Sleeping means peace comfort and acceptance. For all of those things I have built a resistance.
I will never ever ever be close to the same. I got way too lost in that comfortable drain.
I can slowly start to feel my body shutting down, it’s one of those torturous unsettling sounds.
If I go to sleep. What will I see?. And when I wake? What new version of me will I unintentionally set free?
Memoir of a mom 