Musing no. 22: Lullabies

When I was a toddler, my mom said I would pat my bum and lull myself to sleep, as if my parents were doing it. I needed that comfort of being able to sleep in a way that I am most comfortable with. I would even hum to myself, as if I were singing myself to sleep.

As a teenager, I remember singing myself to sleep while wishing I was back in my country the 2.5 years I spent outside of it. While crying.

As an adult, I rock and sing and cry myself to sleep, but doing these don’t work anymore. Do you think it matters that I can’t sleep? Yep.

But why am I wide awake at this time of night? Oh, it’s morning. 0401 to be exact. I wasn’t meant to be on this side of the planet. So the goal is to go back where I belong.

 

Sometimes Life gives you a giant reality check and hits you with all types of maladies in the different facets and connections in your life, and it just brings you to your knees. I respect life. I just wish things went well, for once.

If I passed away right now, what they’ll find are empty water bottles, clothes I haven’t folded, books I’ve been dying to read, photographs I’ve taken, letters I’ve written, things I’ve sketched, and my dead, naked body. I don’t know if that’s even of any concern. In fact, I doubt anyone I know knows.

Ugh no, I am not taking my own life. I just like to imagine life without me, and how easier it would be for other people if I weren’t around.

 

Maybe I’ll just move to a country where nobody knows me.

Maybe thinking of that will give me sleep. Sleeps are mini-deaths anyway.

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