Maybe it’s not insomnia
Maybe it’s the opposite. Maybe I am already asleep, always asleep, never awake. Sleep isn’t eluding me, it’s engulfing me. The waking world isn’t ready for me.
Two hours ago, I was slow-motion-underwater-legs-in-quicksand sleepy. My arrogance was bold, brash. “Sleepless tonight? No way Jose! Not for this girl! It’s good night sleep tight see ya in dream town.” I finished what I was doing and brushed my teeth and kissed baby ginger a hundred million times and got into bed and then… nothing.
AND LOOK AT ME NOW. Awake, too late for me to take anything, too early for me to jump off a cliff. Nothing left to do but wait for sleep. It’ll come eventually.
In the meantime, I can enjoy the cool night air coming in from the window. It feels good on my skin and in my lungs, especially after the heat of the past week. And it is raining. Soft, lovely, sweet.
also lovely? The loud braying of my upstairs neighbor’s constantly-running AC, even though it’s only 52° out right now. you know what they say. heat rises! so it must be at least 55° up there. Sweltering.
wasn’t it Walt Whitman who devoted several pages in leaves of grass to the mechanical beauty of summertime in America?
Okay it’s not fair for me to complain about loud people loudly living their lives (I mean pot kettle black right?!) but what can I say. I am large I contain multitudes.