What it’s like…
The attic rattles with flying squirrels tearing at my boxes; treasures shredded, thrown, used as urinals while they bounce against the walls.
Why wasn’t I a better child…a better wife., mother, person, lover, employee, carer of dogs and cats…a kind person knowing how to love.
Two hours of tossing, rolling ideas around a mind wishing for sleep, begging to close my eyes, to feel the world fade around me and awaking at dawn.
On the witching hour, another chapter chases away the squirrels, who scatter and hide while I type out the pages my mind refuses to ignore.
Insomnia sings to me off-key and I scream for relief while she unlocks doorways, tearing apart boxes of what-if’s…exposing my deepest regrets.
I want to know…what is it like to live without exhaustion, to awaken eight hours later, refreshed, aware, and ready for the day?