The Weight Between Wakefulness and Sleep

I lay in bed. Stuck in my head. Breathing, but not quite living. Feeling, yet not quite sensing. Sadness consumed me, as it often does. My mind working to will my extremities to move toward something exciting, yet losing the battle over and over again.

I allowed myself to drift off mentally into a space of rest—the only thing that could comfort me. Using sleep to console me. Shutting down my brain’s excitability. Quieting the all-consuming anxiety. The longing to feel “happy” once again… yet sadness sets in, crashing over me unexpectedly. I was once ready, now coming undone.

I envision myself in the midst of my friends, sharing laughs and martinis. Yet sadness envelopes me. It tells me I am nothing, yet everything all the same. Completely in over my head. I am the one to blame for my shortcomings. The cause of my agony. The creator of my own despair. How can I escape my own reality, even if for a moment?

My head hits the pillow. I will myself to sleep peacefully, yearning for the subconscious state of slumber. How I long to feel the quiet that comes with drifting off, my body sinking into the deep grooves of the mattress, sheets draped over me in stillness. Sadness lingers, but I soften into it—no longer fighting quite as hard—allowing the moment to simply be, until rest, however brief, finally finds me.