Letters for Muscles
March 24
My Dearest Muscles,
I’m tired. Really, really tired.
I keep getting the dates wrong. The date on this letter was crossed out at least twice before I got it right (first March 14, then March 35, what is wrong with me?). I guess this is what happens after a month of an average of 4 hours sleep… and two days in a row of waking up before 3 am.
This morning, I woke up at 1:15 am. I really tried to back to sleep. I did. I just couldn’t.
I can fall asleep at night just fine lately, but that little bit of rest is only enough to fuel my mind… It’s hard knowing that your side of the bed is empty. There’s a small, sane part of my mind that refuses to let me think about you in the wee small hours.
Chandler said he can give me some of his sleeping pills, but I can’t start them until tonight, obviously. I just have no idea how they’ll affect me.
I’m going to toss the meditation crap I tried before out the window and try the pills.
Fingers crossed.
Help me sleep.
Please.
I love you,
Blondie
I’m tired. Really, really tired.
I keep getting the dates wrong. The date on this letter was crossed out at least twice before I got it right (first March 14, then March 35, what is wrong with me?). I guess this is what happens after a month of an average of 4 hours sleep… and two days in a row of waking up before 3 am.
This morning, I woke up at 1:15 am. I really tried to back to sleep. I did. I just couldn’t.
I can fall asleep at night just fine lately, but that little bit of rest is only enough to fuel my mind… It’s hard knowing that your side of the bed is empty. There’s a small, sane part of my mind that refuses to let me think about you in the wee small hours.
Chandler said he can give me some of his sleeping pills, but I can’t start them until tonight, obviously. I just have no idea how they’ll affect me.
I’m going to toss the meditation crap I tried before out the window and try the pills.
Fingers crossed.
Help me sleep.
Please.
I love you,
Blondie