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Better Days Will Come

by Samantha Frank 12 months ago in humanity

A blend of then and now

Sammy Catherine Photography

I lay in bed shaking and gasping for breath every time that sleep starts to find me. It’s like my body fears the unconsciousness. As soon as sleep comes quietly tiptoeing around the corner, my body screams. I can feel it building in my throat and my stomach turns. I squeeze my eyes closed begging my body to stay still until it feels like it will explode. I tremble and gasp before attempting to relax again. I slowly pull my body away from yours to curl up alone, hoping my shivers won't disturb your slumber. Sleep whispers for me again and I whimper. I want to sleep so desperately but my body knows that the nightmares are coming. We play tag for a bit and then I sleep for hours. When I wake my body is sore and I have new scratches from clawing at myself in hopes to escape whatever monsters my subconscious was trying to throw at me last night.

I wake up with a migraine, my head pounding in ways that make it hard to move. Slowly, I sit up and wrap my arms around my legs taking a few deep breaths in the hopes that it will calm my racing heart. My muscles scream as I swing my legs over the side of the bed and when I stand the room spins. I stumble as I dress, hoping to not fall as the dizziness swirls in my brain.

I feel like a mess, a walking disaster. Isn’t sleep supposed to refresh the body? The horror movies that play behind my eye lids leave me feeling like I’ve been hit by a truck. I slip my feet into my slippers and wrap my arms around my body as I shuffle my way into the kitchen to start the coffee. My body is freezing so I check the thermostat but it’s just my insides rattling away. As the smell of coffee fills the air, I grab some bandages and wrap my wrists where I had done the most damage to my sleeping body.

With a hot mug in my hands, my fingers laced around it clutching its warmth, I make my way back to bed. I climb back in and sit, sipping the coffee and hope that it will warm my freezing insides.

I take a moment to look at you and wonder what your dreaming of. Your fit chest rises and falls while you sleep. I smile, thinking of the way your skin feels against mine and how perfect it feels in your embrace. It feels like home, like maybe that is where I am supposed to be.

I tear my gaze away from you and out the window. There’s a fresh coat of snow over everything. The grass is a white blanket, the rooftops, the tree branches, all of it. The world is quiet, not quite awake yet and the golden light of the sun peaks into the sky. It’s stunning but it’s nothing compared to you. I wish I felt lucky soaking in this calm, beautiful moment but I didn’t. What I really felt was guilt. What did I do to deserve someone like you? I think of the way you flash that smile at me while we tangle our bodies in the sheets. You’re too good for me. I know that.

I am trying though. I am trying so hard to be better, biting my tongue when I know my thoughts are irrational and pushing myself to do more than curl up into myself. I speak up and I try my best to keep honesty in my words. I want to be good enough for you. I want to be everything that you deserve. I’m exhausted. Physically and mentally, constantly pushing myself harder and harder only to achieve normalcy. It’s difficult. Yet, you’re there holding me up through all of it, lacing your fingers between mine and pulling me along with you so I don’t fall behind. One of these days my health will be better. I’ll be stronger in all the ways that I am struggling now. I will match each of your strides and walk with you.

I set my coffee down, barely gone, and lay back into bed next to you. You shift, your eyes fluttering open and catching mine. A smile lights up your sleepy face and your arm lazily drapes over me, easily pulling my whole body into yours. My laugh falls against your chest as I nuzzle against you, my body curling against yours, fitting together like a puzzle. Your breathing evens out almost immediately. I know you’re already sleeping again, and I think to myself that a few more minutes of sleep couldn’t hurt me either. Almost inaudibly, I whisper before closing my eyes and drifting off with you again, "I love you."


Samantha Frank

It's only a phase.

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Samantha Frank
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