08/22/2011

 Night.

I dreamed I was awake, watching the numbers on the clock change.  Soon it was 5:30 AM and I wasn’t sure if I had been to sleep.  The arms wrapped around me are my arms.  The blankets are blankets—they are not holding me down.

But something is.

I go to bed because I feel guilty if I don’t.  If I do something “weird” like stay up all night, it’s “bad.”  I’m tired, sure, but I don’t sleep.  Not easily, and not long. 

Pain.  My hands, and wrists.  Playing the guitar, I realize the extent of what I’ve done.  I can’t go back and undo it.  I don’t know that I would, if I could.  What part of myself did I save by destroying another?