Restless

It’s the same thing every night.My body is tired, but my mind is hell-bent on staying awake — restless, haunted by what’s behind me and disturbed by what’s ahead. I lie in bed for hours, trying to talk myself into sleep, but it’s pointless. My thoughts don’t quiet; they multiply. They swarm. They consume.

Writing or drawing is the only thing that gives me even a moment of ease. Ink and lines are the closest I get to peace. But I still wish — just once — that I could climb into bed and actually fall asleep without fighting myself. Without negotiating with my brain. Without begging for a break.

I wish I could shut down the million thoughts that take turns hijacking my night. I wish they had an off switch. I wish I had an off switch.

Maybe the sleeplessness won’t settle until I feel some kind of stability, some confidence in who I am and where I’m going. I hope that feeling shows up soon, because these restless nights are pushing me to the edge. I just want to be free for a minute — free from my mind, my conscience, the noise in my own head. Just a little relief. One night of peace.

I keep telling myself that night will come.But honestly? I’m not convinced.

So for now my only defense is this: pen, paper, and the hope that if I write enough, draw enough, spill enough of myself onto a page, maybe I can exhaust the thoughts before they exhaust me.

Until then, I guess I’ll keep writing/drawing my way toward sleep.