Insomnia
I saw you tonight.
For some reason, you always invade my dreams in ways I'd never allow you to overtake my waking senses.
I can feel you. So close, but so desperately far off. A beacon shining in the distance that I'm not sure I'll ever reach.
In my dream, you offer me my deepest wishes. In some sort of Faustian exchange, you ask only my heart. My heart which has already been given. Of course, you don't know that because I refuse to acknowledge it.
My stubborn will does not allow me to accept the desire I feel in my soul. Only in sleep can I admit the truth.
In some great ironic tragedy of nearly Shakespearian proportions, I deny myself the satisfaction of admission. In a feeble attempt to corral my emotions and maintain our closeness, I wall off the parts of my psyche that might expose me for what I really am. In the meantime, I encourage your games. I refuse to acknowledge the pain that you put me through.
When the pain becomes unbearable, I escape.
If I could only find an escape from these feelings I never wanted in the first place. If only I could rewrite the script, harden my heart just a little more.
In trying to bisect my emotions and kill the feelings warring within my chest, I feel myself fade. I begin to wonder whether it is really worth the effort. I begin to wonder if I can succeed at all. I begin to wonder why I would ever suffer the delusion that you could possibly want me.
The effort exhausts me. So I sleep.
But when I sleep, you invade my senses still further.
So I am awake. And waiting. For what, I'm still not sure. Maybe I'll know when it comes. But, if not, at least I won't be tormented anymore.
For some reason, you always invade my dreams in ways I'd never allow you to overtake my waking senses.
I can feel you. So close, but so desperately far off. A beacon shining in the distance that I'm not sure I'll ever reach.
In my dream, you offer me my deepest wishes. In some sort of Faustian exchange, you ask only my heart. My heart which has already been given. Of course, you don't know that because I refuse to acknowledge it.
My stubborn will does not allow me to accept the desire I feel in my soul. Only in sleep can I admit the truth.
In some great ironic tragedy of nearly Shakespearian proportions, I deny myself the satisfaction of admission. In a feeble attempt to corral my emotions and maintain our closeness, I wall off the parts of my psyche that might expose me for what I really am. In the meantime, I encourage your games. I refuse to acknowledge the pain that you put me through.
When the pain becomes unbearable, I escape.
If I could only find an escape from these feelings I never wanted in the first place. If only I could rewrite the script, harden my heart just a little more.
In trying to bisect my emotions and kill the feelings warring within my chest, I feel myself fade. I begin to wonder whether it is really worth the effort. I begin to wonder if I can succeed at all. I begin to wonder why I would ever suffer the delusion that you could possibly want me.
The effort exhausts me. So I sleep.
But when I sleep, you invade my senses still further.
So I am awake. And waiting. For what, I'm still not sure. Maybe I'll know when it comes. But, if not, at least I won't be tormented anymore.