Sometimes I find myself trying not to sleep while I’m biting down on my own teeth realizing I just need to think and breathe. Counting sheep doesn’t work but the thought of counting does.
During times like these I form into a shapeless mass like what happens when water and street oil meet. And although there isn’t much to hold there seeps a feeling deep beneath the thick comforter that is my psyche and waits for sleep as it lingers on to all the colors and shading. There is where I reflect universally. Continue reading