Thursday, September 6


Sleep. Sometimes you just lay there waiting for it to take over but it never happens. The fan spinning, while cooling me off, is also irritatingly sending little hairs scuttling across my skin, making it crawl, tickling and itchy. I hear your every breath, your random snore and mysterious giggles as you dream. You turn, trapping my hair under your elbow just as I had decided to escape the boredom and the darkness. When I finally and somewhat painfully extricate myself from your unintentional grasp, my hair is a tangled and knotted mess. The animals snore, not noticing the bright light or the tapping keys. The train and traffic are humming outside. I play games on my phone. Watch two movies. Pluck my armpit hair. My mind isn't awake enough to work but not relaxed enough to sleep. When I look at the time again, I laugh. Four twenty. In the morning. I get up, take a puff and wait for it. Sleep.

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