I am only an insomniac when it rains. The pitter patter of the raindrops reminds me of the pitter patter of cat paws.
(He liked to sleep at my feet when I could barely think, just to make me feel better. I think you used to tell him to.)
I wish I could wrap your memories around my spine and wear them as a backbone, because they are stronger than the arch my broken spined back seems to have developed of late.
(Spines are oddly brittle, and a lot like wrists. Easy to break and forever to heal.)
But I cannot depend of any of that anymore. So I wear red lipstick and high heels and go to parties and tell strangers how amazing they are to be wearing red lipstick and high heels and how different they must be to come to this party instead of the other one.
(All because you would hate parties and think nightlife is so stupid.)
It is what I do with my insomnia. Because my spineless back, the memories of you incessantly looped in my sleeplessly addled brain and the raindrops remind me how I am not like you. How I am not brave and how I hate parties but go to be closer to the version of you my memories are still looping.
When I come home, I kick off my high heels and smear my red lipstick across my face.
(And all that is left is a catless, thin skinned, broken spined girl, trying to learn how to be brave.)
A very well written work. Unlike some of your other works, it manages to fill motions near the end and till the end it was - I cannot say whether gladly or not - a not so emotionally distressing work. Perhaps that is because the theme is not only of loss, it is of learning and trying to proceed on; trying to be brave. Although I was a bit... uh... confused over why the person would still go to parties - to get closer to the other person's version? That sort of left me in a confused state. The ending, with the smeared lip stick is what induces proper emotions and the work expresses itself fully. Coming from you, another fine work. And I like the concept of insomnia here
Its been well over a year now... maybe two years... since I last read your work. And I must honestly admit, they strike a chord. A sharp... crisp... heart-wrenching and traumatizing chord...
The ending of this work, in particular, is so true. It is such an honest admission, and all of us are in some form or some way, guilty of that same crime. Because it is - when we let ourselves go - in such an abysmal state, that we realize we are simply cowards... Not exactly at heart, but admittedly in terms of our inability to... break from the norm, break free from that vicious cycle...
Of realizing that when we had the chance to save ourselves, we refused to do so... And it was too late for us to do otherwise...
My cat disappeared a couple of months ago, and I think it's been hardest on me. I know he didn't run away, no matter what anyone says, because he loved us. He would even follow my sister and I when we went for bike rides or walks. I know I can't say I know how you feel. But that doesn't mean I don't feel emotions like this. And I write to get through tough times. You say this is an old memory, but the pain in the writing feels fresh. You'll get through this, someday. We all do, eventually.
This is beautiful. I love how you wrote this. I think its something a lot of people can relate to. The difficulty of falling asleep sometimes. Trying to fit in with ideas you don't like but everyone else does. Great job!
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