About Me

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I am a young college student in New England trying to find my path towards a career in literature. I am also trying to find my path in the maze that is Bipolar depression and mood disorder. I believe that there is something divine in the pain of life, and I have great hope and love for those sufferers.

Tuesday, January 5, 2010

Dream sweet dreams for you, dream sweet dreams for me.

It always seems it's easier for the things we're most vulnerable to, to get to us at night. Things that have ceased to be seem to come alive again and memory becomes a hole to fall into, instead of a place to visit and leave when we wish.

When I say "we" I mean "me" of course, but I hope and mostly know I'm not the only one.

As soon as the sun goes down we're stripped of anything that can't follow us to the next life, and left with only the things that determine our judgment. It's no wonder so many people have trouble sleeping. It's no wonder we look for ways to dislodge our burdens and places to store them, out of sight but safely secured. I long for the day I could take off my memories before bed like I take off my jewelry. I would place them on my bedside table, and be able to sleep unabashed, knowing I wouldn't be jilted awake from the stab of a sterling silver feather in my neck. Or the scratch of desperation on my arm. How many of our wounds do we contract while we're sleeping? How many times have we forgotten to put away our fears, and left untamed, have sliced holes in our hopes when we roll over? How many times do we check our locked front doors, our ovens and heaters, but think nothing of letting our regrets and animosities roam the night streets? Getting into God knows what.


I long for the day it would be like flipping a switch. After all, I never forget to turn my light out.

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