she wakes up 10 minutes before her alarm goes off.
sleep, an activity which she once took for granted, has now become a necessity and a luxury at the same time. necessity to keep the silly voices in her head in check, and a luxury, because now, time is of the essence. she used to loll around her bed, smelling her sheets and snuggling her face in her pillows – often with one on her back; she likes the comfort of something warm pressed against her.
now she lies on her belly, a pen in one hand and books as her pillows. she cannot sleep – she must not sleep – as comfortably as she wants(must). it would open a world she tries so hard to repel.
it doesn’t matter anyway, sleep hasn’t been as wonderful as it used to be. dreaming of red balloons, candy-coated chocolate bars and impromptu road trips only makes her want to go back to sleep.
“sleep now and rest your thoughts.”
but it keeps entering her subconscious – at least in another part of her world she can be what she wants to be. and this doesn’t give her comfort as much as it should. it haunts her. you sleep, and dream – and then you wake up trying to push those dreams back to their respective closets. if only thoughts were as behaved as books.
“snap out of it. you’re going to be late.”
i like me the most
when i’m the me i can be
when i’m with you-