Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep; I'll Lay Awake And Count The Sheep

I remember the sun spilling in the single window of my tiny bedroom. It faced West which makes me think it was later in the afternoon, the suns rays glowed a warm orange that bounced off the bright white walls around me. I had fallen behind on my homework and had once again failed to meet the deadline of an assignment due the week before. Writing was a passion of mine, even then, and although the assignment had originally intrigued me, the invisible walls I had spent time building around my life caused me a lack of inspiration; I didn’t want to share anything. 

The exact parameters of this said assignment escape me, giving the impression they were loose and open ended, but in the end I produced a piece with a simple title, “Fears.” 

The green and white floral comforter tucked neatly over my bed remains vivid in my memory and sticks out almost as much as the essay I wrote. I laid on my stomach, pencil in hand and began writing without much thought to what came out. I have learned in the many years since then, that this has become the absolute best and most healing therapy I could possibly practice for myself; Writing something without hesitation or censorship in fear of who might read it. 

I re-read my words only once as to catch any spelling or grammatical errors and then closed the three ring binder, accepting the release and letting go of the secrets that had escaped me. Cryptic, yet very telling, in a sense deflecting the very perception of who I was. I had allowed myself to release the inner anxieties that plagued me and in turn opened myself up to an unexpected vulnerability - the possibility of hurting the people I loved as a result of admitting how much of their hurt I took upon myself. 

Fears

What I don't know in life is the scariest thing in the back of my thoughts. My fear of not knowing what's coming haunts my thoughts like ghosts in an abandon house. The future. Questions I can't answer. What will happen? What won't happen? When will my most precious God given gifts be taken away from me, leaving me here alone? Adjourned for another day. Left here to wait on whatever it is that comes for us.

The future, thoughts, questions…fears.

Tonight I will dream of what I had, but don't have now. What I want, and wish to God I had, but know I'll never get back. The sun sets. Time, is endless as everyone sleeps...only, I'm awake. 

The night is when sadness is around. It’s when I feel my lowest, and the most vulnerably alone. It is when I'm allowed to let myself cry silently. I let the tears glide from my eyes and down my cheeks to stain my pillow with a drop of mascara from my lashes. People like me cry these kinds of tears in the night, praying things will get better, and wishing the pain would subside, if only long enough for the darkness of the night to overtake our minds and wrap us in the comforts of sleep.

The wind whips around the swings on the nearby playground making them sway just enough to whisper an eerie sound, like that of a strangers footsteps in a home. 

I pray for the noise to stop. For silence; for sleep; for him to calm down. That the yelling and the banging will go away. How am I supposed to sleep when I can hear him screaming? It's so uncontrollable, that at times it sounds like bilingual gibberish. Not understanding why he screams at the night for his pain.

He won't calm down. I'm asking God aloud why he's not helping this, why his cries aren't hushed. The sounds are loud. His sobbing, unsteady voice is explaining, to the adherent world that's not even listening, the pro's death has for him and the painless end he threatens to make.

The noise dies down...eventually...it's gone. He sleeps. Mom sleeps, now that she knows her child is safe in the arms of the dream world, and thinks the other never heard the cries. I sleep, finally, knowing my brother's pain has subsided for now, and my mother's sobs are slowing their pace, coming to a halt and making her eyes swell small to the point she can't help but close them for sleep.

The cries are gone, hidden within the night breeze that's passed. Away with the coldness of the night…gone. I often wonder, how the morning will be after such a horribly restless night. And I realize now, these questions I ask myself of what's next, I can't answer and that I can only live today, one second at a time. Sure, I can plan ahead, but who knows when things will change. Things change all the time. For now though, I can only sleep; it's time for sleep; I need to sleep.

The future is just a dream, a glitch in the night. It's a thought deep in the back of a mind, hidden way down inside. For some people these dreams become nightmares, but for others dreams come true. What will my dream turn into? Perhaps it will be a nightmare, or maybe something more, something good.

What does my future hold?