Secret Stash 2- How A Writer Falls Asleep

I stare up at the ceiling, the streetlight shining through my window,

imagining the somber scene over and over and over again,

The main character of my imaginary world, the one I’ve

written about since I knew how to make a Google Doc

nearly ten years ago now, an evolution of childhood

given form in my moments before sleep takes me away.

It plays out in cinematic detail,

the soundtrack mirroring my Spotify

with a single song looped until I wake.

She waits for someone to save her,

to give her permission to rest,

something she will always deny herself.

We are not the same. 

She is strong and tall,

while I’m soft and short.

But we both want to be

a hero in someone else’s story,

though we know that’s not how life works.

I stare up at the ceiling, the streetlight shining through my window,

imagining the somber scene over and over and over again.

She looks up at a gray sky, voices shouting 

though she cannot hear them

as her vision begins to blur

and she falls into unconsciousness.

It is at that moment that I too fall asleep.

Tomorrow, I will wake before sunrise,

I will go about my day,

type across my screen her story,

and at night, in my bed,

the cycle will begin again.