Learned Behaviors

At night I find my favorite pair of sweat pants, and the comfiest sweatshirt I own. I need these friends of my skin because I know what every night brings.

The cold.
The tremors.
The sheer panic.

You can see it if you watch me sleep...I'm fighting an enemy you can't see. I thrash and whimper. I cry and scream. And by morning it's as though I never slept at all.

It always starts the same. I get into bed and wrap around myself pretending you're holding me. I think of who you might be, try to see your face. Sometimes this happy day dream keeps the fight away, but most of the time the sadness finds me and tries to take you away, and make me remember everything I need you to protect me from. I lose my grip on your phantom and must prepare for battle.

I can't talk about it with anyone. I can't say to anyone "well the reason I'm so tired all the time is because I won't ever be able to sleep until he finds me and keeps me safe from the dreams."

It's a learned behavior...keeping your sadness to yourself. But not here. Here I can say it's been so long since my last post because sometimes the misery swallows me up and takes away my words. It convinces me that there is no reason to keep writing, to keep trying, to keep holding on to my sanity.

But I wouldn't have to try so hard...or keep anything to myself if I could find you. I'd like to believe I will. Jude does, so part of me does.

And so I ask, as I ask every day....Where are you?