My bed is my best friend and worst enemy. I think about it constantly during the day while I am busy, and trying to live my life. I think about my bed so often. By the afternoon my body is pleading, begging to jump into bed. Rest, my bed tells me. Why do you exhaust yourself. Why are you putting your body through all this pain? “Stay here,” whispers my bed. But I can’t. I have to take care of my daughter, play with her, love on her. The bed whispers, “but I have warm cozy blankets to snuggle up with.” Bed, I have a life though, and a career. I am desperately needing a girls night. That can wait, my bed says more sternly. My husband is missing my face, and we haven’t talked in days, so no I can’t get into bed yet. My bed is wanting all of me, all of the time. My bed grows jealous of others in my life. My bed wants to take hold of body, and hide it from the world. By six PM, my bed and I are now in a starring contest. We stare for minutes. Tears start to roll down my face. Chronically fatigued, exhaustion runs throughout my entire body. I sit down on the bed and whisper, you win again. Lying down my bed says in a cocky voice, “try again tomorrow, but you always have a safe place here.”
My scars are untold stories,
The pain never goes away. It follows me everywhere I go. Sometimes it leaves me alone but soon comes knocking at my door. I do not let it in. Now the pain is banging on my door. I still do not open.