Friday, March 4, 2016

Happily awake

Oh, insomnia. You detestable old foe...

I guess I should be grateful that at least you've arrived during my spring break. And when tomorrow won't be too terribly difficult to handle. And two weeks later than expected. And because of amazing feelings of joy. 

I am so desperately happy to be engaged to my wonderful man that I cannot sleep. It's a much different occasion than your usual visits. 

I pluck my eyebrows, do my toenails, and try all the usual tricks to tucker myself out, except smoking pot. I haven't been smoking lately and have no intention of it any time soon.

I wait. 

An hour goes by past the time I'd like to be asleep. Then another. And another. And still I lie awake. I just can't stop thinking about our wedding. The details and possibilities and specifics. I put on the song I want to walk down the aisle to in the darkness of my silent bedroom and start crying. I can't believe how happy I truly feel with my life. I'm so humbled and grateful. 

I mentally take off and can't stop, my thoughts tumbling over one another for hours. I start to incessantly plan. I plan to hide the fact of this song until our wedding day when it unexpectedly starts playing. I decide to surprise my future husband with this little gift. I know he will be blown away by it, and though the event is a year and 8 months away, I can already barely handle the excitement. 

Oh, insomnia. You're a child again. 

You're not the version I've seen over the past few years - full of guilt and dread and worry. You're the you you were when I was an adolescent. When I would lie awake with big dreams and even bigger and more elaborately detailed plans. 

It's strange to see you like this. And though I wish you would leave, I have to admit it's almost sort of pleasant to see you on these terms. 

But, alas. I invited Benny to take care of you. Because someone or something has to at some point tonight. I do have a present to get to...

And then, slowly, there are the images creeping in to my mind of a consciousness that I need to transition to. 

As thunder suddenly rumbles, I feel electricity in my bones. I didn't think I could feel like this again in life. It's spectacular. 

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