I awoke to my conscious talking me today.
She said: "You were talking in your sleep again, when will you learn?"
I apologized.
Then I asked her, what I said.
She refused to tell me.
She said: "Your subconscious is a dangerous being, I'd rather not make them mad."
I left it at that.
I don't think I want to know.
I just wish I could rest when I need to.
Even my sleep seems to come with interruptions
I wish I could tell you all that I think,
but there aren't enough minutes in the day,
to explain.
I wish I didn't have to have these conversations,
constantly having to remind myself who I am,
and why I'm worthy.
Trying to shut out my disappointment in myself,
I carry it like a bag of bricks everywhere I go.
If I could I'd build a house with them instead,
to protect me from my thoughts.
I tip-toe around every word that comes out of my mouth,
trying so hard to make sure it sounds exactly like I need it to sound.
Kicking myself for the stupid things I've said,
the stupid outfits I've worn,
the stupid mistakes that I've made.
I've heard some of the things said about these other people,
the ones who wore their hair wrong,
or made a stupid joke,
but,
when I'm not around I must be "other people" too, right?
My conscious tells me to cut it out.
She tells me:
"Life is worth more than the things you've said, and the way that you've looked.
It's all the sunsets you've watched,
the stars you've gazed at,
the people you've loved,
the people who have loved you.
This life is worth more than the things you say in your sleep.
The things you want are not tangible,
they can't be held.
You want to look in the mirror and smile at your reflection.
You want to wake up to someone who sees the stars in your smile,
especially since you can't see them yourself.
You want to love everything,
beggars can't be choosers and you know this.
You have to love it all,
which is an impossible task I know,
but it's worth a shot.
Maybe if you tried just once,
you could let me sleep without any interruptions."