Lonely Sleep Saboteur Insomniac

Like a fist around the insides of the inside of my chest, and I don’t know how it got it there but it’s already rooted deep. Maybe it was always there. Maybe it created itself from the inside walls of my chest cavity. That whole space in there, wrenched.

It’s been visiting a few days now. It’s unnerving to witness and host- like watching a horrible stranger danger character walk right up the front path and into the house, to live for some undetermined period of time and possibly for as long as you can humanly take it. To watch that happen, and to feel it. Angry and helpless and scared and resigned, in that order then all at the same time.

The thoughts churn up too because you know these beasts travel together- like three crows make a murder do three brain things make a mess- and the thoughts are usually interested in role-playing all sorts of traumatic scenarios. Lonely and Anxiety dancing the night away. Or at least they would, except that I’ve done all this work and I can sit down and write to y’all about those motherfuckers, which really puts them back in the corner. I can stop them from trashing my zen. Or I can ignore them, all sorts of mental boxes for that exact task. Or I can lay down and snuggle with them. Someone always pisses the bed. I try to stick with protecting the zen.

So that’s where I am tonight. Pew pew.

Oh I need a third brain thing. Sleep saboteur insomnia. Purposeful sacrificing of sleep to gain some sense of control over time. TA DAH, an official mess.