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  • Writer's picturePaige Harris

It's 12 AM

It's 12 am and I can't sleep. It's not that late, but this medication makes me sleepy all day and awake all night. I want a hug, I want to cry, I want to move everything out into the yard and hose down this house, hose down myself. I have a job interview tomorrow, which is pretty exciting. The start of something new. Hopefully, I get the job. I think I'd fit in well over there. Maybe I can be happy. My eyes are sleepy, but my brain is always working, always twisting. Stop...just...stop. This headache is pounding in my ears, pounding. Tiny woodpeckers are pecking at my eardrums. Teeth clenched like I'm about to attack, but the only thing I'm attacking is myself. I wonder if these thoughts will ever matter to anyone but myself. In that case, they seem pretty pointless and temporary. There's no material value in this...why not just go to sleep? This is all an illusion. You just think your heart is broken, but it's beating. It has to be beating. Sometimes I check my pulse just to make sure it's there.

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