Logically, my body knows that I have to sleep. That I need rest. That I deserve to rest.
But sleeping feels so much like letting go and I’m not ready to let go.
My heart wants to vent and my feelings are like rampant beasts freed from their chains.
My whole mind is a jumbled mess; a wildfire has taken over it. And I am gone. I become feelings, I become emotions, my body a mere vessel.
My existence depends on my fingers and my eyes to record and write down every disappointment, every rejection, every failure. Every blow I have to endure. Every endeavor I missed. Every mistake I committed.
As I lay awake, the light passed me by, but the darkness lingers. Not for long – just another passerby, until the two coalesce and paint my shadow.
And it struck me that I am not made to let things go. I am made with a heavy heart. I am made to hurt, feel hurt, be hurt.
And it hurts.
Thank you,
to the shrouding darkness that hugs me through the night and the warm light that never abandons me 🌌
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