Here I sit, awake yet again in the wee small hours of the night. I have had a cocktail, taken my meds, watched a movie, shoveled my face full of Angel food cake...and yet I remain unable to find the peace of slumber.
Bulldogge speaks of the changes in me since my return from my forray to my beloved Florence. I remind him often that I have required medication to sleep for better than ten years and these bouts are nothing new. Sometimes I envy his ability to sleep.
I long to be free of the secrets that haunt me deep in the night. I long for comfort that does not belong to me. I long for safety from even my own mind. I yearn for understanding from those around me, including myself.
I feel guilty for the safety felt with my cheek resting in the palm of a friend. That memory has sustained me for quite some time. I doubt the owner of the hand even remembers the evening's rest, and yet it helps me find safety in my slumber on many evenings.
Now once more I shall place this weary head on my pillow, listening to the rhythmic snoring of the man next to me. I may be damned for using whatever tools are at my disposal to get tonight's rest. Be that as it may. A girl needs to sleep.
