The fan is on, the constant hushing sound adding rhythm to the room
I can hear the hum of cars passing by outside my window
a added sense that I am not alone even though I am here by myself
Novembers cooling touch has crept in
nipping at my toes, drying my already dry pale skin
my favorite time of year when life seems to slow down, putting a glow on the usually bland days
here in my bed under the warmth of my flannel blankets all is right with my world
but my brain still finds something to bring the anxiety out
I thought if I started writing down my thoughts on paper it would lessen the night time stress
but then I stress about not writing on the nights I forget
the streetlight outside my window flashes a constant shadow on my wall
and I find comfort in that
something about the added light on my wall is friendly, familiar
when my brain finally shuts off I fall into dreams of my past
of people I haven't seen in years, all the stories blend into one
repeating like a rerun
at least I still have dreams
even if they're only in my sleep