I find myself crawling to my familiar spot on the couch. It's late. It's always late it seems. Sighing deeply I find myself laying down, back supported by the meditation pillow that will rarely enjoy the activity it was created for. Day by day being used but never truly appreciated for its own purpose.

What does it mean when you are helpful in one way but not being true to form? Is it success or failure? Is it anything at all?

I glance upwards towards the light strung along the ceiling. Hundreds of soft diamonds shimmering in the twilight. They repel the dark yet it seems they shine only due to a dependency of it. Is this foolishness? Is this insane? Or is this happiness?

My eyes wander to the ceiling. The peaks of cheap white paint haphazardly dotting the ceiling in a desperate attempt to "stylize" this home. They remind me of my successes in life. Few and far between with an undertone of ridiculous mediocrity tainting it all. Despite this these peaks are pleasant enough. Mediocre as they are, I must claim them as myself with as much pride as I can muster.

It's late. Why aren't I asleep? My body aches for the bed. The soft sheets that call to me. The ones that are rough in comparison to the soft beauty that slumbers beside me. God I want to be with her right now. I want to embrace her in my arms. Hear her soft breathing and find a way to get mine to match it. I want to kiss her neck and feel the goosebumps form on her arms. I want to nuzzle into the nape of her neck as the scent of her shampoo enflames my soul. I want to make love to her. To show her the love I feel for her in the only way I seem to know how.

Of course I never seem to be able to. Always one step off from everyone else. How interesting it is that one moment I'm prideful of this. I embrace the individualism that envelopes my life. Then suddenly I don't. I get embarrassed, insecure, and scared.

I want to be in bed. I want to sleep. I want to lie down and drift off. Of course I can't

"Just trust the plan," my brain spouts to me.
"It'll be alright," it lies.
"Just one more activity then you can rest," and once again I'm a slave to falsehoods.

You told me that hours ago. You are supposed to be my friend. You're supposed to protect me.

I miss dreams. When I finally sleep it's not truly as it seems. It's more along the line of flipping a switch. No gentle transition.

Just a blank screen on standby till the battery is recharged.
I need a new charger.

Why am I so scattered in thought? Is it because I don't get the opportunity to arrange them in the subconsciousness of my being?

I'm so tired.

It's starting to affect me. Who am I kidding, it always has. It always will.

"Just take melatonin"
"Just drink some tea"
"Meditate! It's that easy!"

Thank you. I had no idea those options might help. Let me try them now.... THEY WORKED! THANK YOU!

I don't mean to be snarky.
I don't mean to hurt the ones that try to help.
I don't mean to cry.
I want to laugh.
I want to smile.
I want to be happy more often than naught.

But I'm just so tired.