Thursday, March 17, 2011


The quiet is overwhelming at times, while he sleeps. You'd think I'd be used to it, since he sleeps so much, but I'm not. Even though he's sleeping, I still worry. I think about all the things that need to be done, or the things I can't do, and I worry.

And then I think about the fact that he might not wake up, and the quiet gets to be too quiet, and I wake him. And he's unhappy. So I try not to do that.

I can hear everything. My own heart pounding in my ears, always being closer to death than to life. I hear my breathing. It's heavier than it should be, but it always has been. I can hear birds and things outside, but I hide inside instead, where it's safe. I don't want to deal with the outside right now.

Things have been okay. They've been quiet. They've been too quiet. I'm wasting away, waiting for the crash.