I’m sorry. Lately I’ve traded words for sleep. Good sleep. Sleep so good it makes me want to linger in this world, walk around this alternative life.
The hours of the stars. I’m never lonely here. Never alone. Here I fall in love. Here, someone falls in love with me.
When I do wake up, life is normal. Everyday normal with watered down, diluted joy, and pain. Bending down pain. Sitting still pain. Feeling broken pain. You’re not sexy, especially when you can’t pick up the fork on the floor let alone dance. These are not the hours that bring you sheer delight. These are not the minutes that fill you up in technicolor. You will have to wait for the earth to turn before you’re allowed to dream again.