Sleep

Nobody listens anymore.
Nobody.
And the words don’t even seem to come out right at all. It’s like they’re on repeat until they lose all their color – until the meanings are entirely lost.
Nobody listens, nobody cares.
It doesn’t even matter.
The words swirl around my head, mixing up into each other until they’re not even the same words at all.
Caring listen, nobody, nobody.
Does that even make sense? And why is that more profound than the original? Caring nobody, listen!
It doesn’t make sense anymore.
The water below me, above me, pulling me down from the heights of this sorrow, while above me, smiling, floating, the faces explode into love and distress.
Hold me and show me I’ll live anew, I’ll live while I die.
The curtains fall, the lights turn off.
The cast and crew leave for their carefully tended-to homes. The stars collect their bouquets. The night janitor arrives to clean up.

I can’t breathe, drowning with all of the nonsense.
Nonsense, nonsense. It’s not a word that’s taken seriously. No sense. It’s so childish.
Can’t breathe. Suffocation, darkness. No, lighter. Light, full, awake, alive. Living darkness. Thriving light. A happy life is not a full one. I don’t want a long, full life, if that makes me normal. Normalcy is bad. Bad, bad, bad, bad. I want this.

God it hurts.