Late at night, when no one is around, the thoughts come fast and furious, meandering through me until I am consumed in their fire.  These are the moments when I fall victim to the worst parts of me.  These are the moments when I need a hand to hold me.

I haven’t slept well alone in years, not since my bed was a battleground.  As much as I hate being too warm, I sleep better nestled against someone.  I know my insomnia stems from the need to feel safe, something I never feel alone.  I know I feel suffocated because of a past that I still cannot let go of.

These are the moments, late at night, where sometimes, it is all I can do to beg myself to breathe.  Just breathe. There is no going back, no matter how much we wish we can.  And if we do, as the TV show Being Erica proves, there’s no guarantee it will be as wonderful as we remember.

I inhale and hold, afraid to exhale, until the music kicks in, saving me again.  Breathe.  I just have to breathe, until the sunlight returns.

Day Thirteen:  Breathe (2 am) – Anna Nalick