Tuesday, March 26, 2013

Sleep is for the Weeks

Will I always be tired? I look so tired. I am beginning to look old and tired; I can feel my face sag with gravity. I looked at myself on a train in the countryside and said to myself, alone, "I look old(er). I look different." My reflection was moving fast and time was escaping quickly at the momentum of the train. It was as if in that moment I saw all of the sleepless nights and stress and travel nestled underneath my eyelids. As if time was clinging to my pores. You can see the smiles and grimaces of the past. Nothing could be hidden. Nothing could be changed at this point. I had already smoked too many cigarettes and hadn't worn enough sunscreen--the damage had been done. The damage is done. I will always be tired. I want to sleep. Sleep is an escape from my reality even though I always remember my dreams. My anxiety seems validated there. Sometimes in my dreams, I am too tired to see. Am I resigning myself, instead of grasping onto a refusal to give in?

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