5.21

As I lay here, awake, I wonder what it would be like to love falling asleep. My thoughts revolve around that liminal space between worlds, and my mind rejects it. Why would I want to waste my time there? Hung like a wet shirt between space and soil, between waking and sleeping, between thought and silence—what great torture that must be! I prefer my long, agonizing hiccup of wakefulness and the agonized, last-minute plunge into sleep at last, two hours after I intended to go, exhausted beyond words, immediate. As I lay here, awake, my mind flitters on to a new idea and I wrench it back to the thought I prefer having: what if I could just flip a switch? What if I could think whatever I wanted? What if I could choose how long it took? What if I could guarantee it would be pleasant? What if I loved falling asleep?