The story of the sleepless

Sleep.  We hate it when we are young.  We love it as we grow old.  It refreshes us.  Or, most of us.  There is this little known fact about me.  I don’t sleep. Or rather, I do, but not like most.  If you ever need someone at 3 AM, I’m your girl!  Twenty minute power naps.  That’s all I have.  I am a clock watcher, which, by the way, is excruciating.  2:05.  2:27.  2:42.  I swear in darkness time stands still.  But, you learn a lot at night, in the shifty darkness and the deafening silence.  Like how to spell supercalifragilisticexpialidocious, how to sing to the beat of your own heart, and how to escape the person breaking into your house for the 5th time this week (never fails – I swear someone knocks on my windows at night!).  You also learn that dreams can be reality when you are awake.  I have accomplished more in the endless hours of night than I have during any work day.  For some reason, my thoughts run at Mach 6 as soon as the rest of the world sleeps.  But I am used to it.  Am I tired? Yes. Some days.  But tired is for the restless, and lucky for me, my soul is still wide awake!

What’s my point here? Sleep.  Do it!  Whenever time allows.  But, on those nights when the weight of the world hangs on your shoulders, when you can’t seem to make sense of what is eating away at you, do yourself a favor and remember, eventually, the sun’s coming up. Everyday the sun will come up.  And everyday is the best day for a new beginning.  Try again.  And again and again, or as many times as you need.  And on the off chance you are awake at 3 AM, call me, I promise, I am free.

I am the daydreamer and the night thinker,

a simple girl with a complicated mind.

I have bags under my eyes from working for

the dreams I’ve yet to find.

I am not nearly as strong as I wish I could be,

overcome, I’ve done my best

But some days the memories fall from my eyes

and knock the wind from my chest.

I am made of the pieces of what used to be,

never again to be complete.

And though I have fallen, I stand again

on my own two feet.

Just like the moon, some nights I am hidden

tucked between the pain and the fight.

But I try every morning to conquer the world

after being haunted all night.

But who am I?

I am:

Chaos and beauty and silent cries,

a mixture of simple things.

I like to write, get lost in books

find sweet lyrics to sing.

I carry myself in a certain way,

on my sleeve you will find my heart

and I like to talk at midnight

when my world’s falling apart.

I think too much and I get lost

inside of my own head.

Often I search but cannot say

things that need to be said.

I smile a lot and I laugh.

I dance like the sea for the sun.

I try to shine like the stars in the night

before darkness comes undone.

I am reckless and delicate like storm clouds,

old soul with a big heart.

I’m not perfect, I’m just a girl

who occasionally comes apart.