Aside: Stream of Consciousness: Pain, In an Honest Way

I sat up quietly in the middle of the night because there was no room for silence and there was no time for sleep. I couldn’t tell you why I was awake, usually sleeping through the night was a job I had perfected. Falling asleep in situations where it wasn’t warranted was the top of my nonexistent life skills. Instead I sat up and hugged my legs to my chest the way girls do when they need to rock back and forth and cry a little. Naturally, no tears came. I don’t think my brain had yet understood the inherent and pressing need to be sad; that there really are a limited amount of nights where I can awake in this empty room and cry with no consequences. Instead my brain told me that nothing was wrong, that life was moving along just as it normally did, that nothing could disturb the status quo. And naturally the checklist of my life had all been checked. Because nothing was out of the ordinary on paper, so why should it be ordinary in practice. That was practice and theory and they should be the same but they never were.
Instead I realized these moments were pure and honest and allowing myself to feel something was infinitely better than checking off the box next to “be okay” and moving on with my life. Instead I let the past rip through me, like it was all happening again. Every tear I had forced myself not to shed ached at the edges of my eyes; every word I had told myself not to speak wound their way into my tongue. It only took a moment of true and honest feeling so that tomorrow I could wake up and check off the box that says “be okay” and move on.


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