Oct 2018
I have been alone most of my life.
Every now and then someone would walk in, cup my chin,
give me a moments peace from the anxiety of living and not knowing how my day would end.
I could close my eyes, measured breathing into sleep.
I would dream for days, breaking only to sup and eat.
I could forget my sin and remember my goodness.
A reprise. No need for forced politeness.
It was a break. No moving forward. Without or within.
Then, one day, I would think that I could awake, unlock my heart and carefully peer outside.
But every time my benefactor would be gone, and I was alone again.
Every now and then someone would walk in, cup my chin,
give me a moments peace from the anxiety of living and not knowing how my day would end.
I could close my eyes, measured breathing into sleep.
I would dream for days, breaking only to sup and eat.
I could forget my sin and remember my goodness.
A reprise. No need for forced politeness.
It was a break. No moving forward. Without or within.
Then, one day, I would think that I could awake, unlock my heart and carefully peer outside.
But every time my benefactor would be gone, and I was alone again.
When I was alone I would go through terrible bouts of insomnia that would effect my bipolar. Occasionally with a person sleeping next to me, for a while, I could break the cycle, but it never lasted long and I was back to having the world on my shoulders and not sleeping. It took a long time to break that cycle. Years actually.
