My entire body is heavy.
My eyelids blink with the consistency of a frozen stream. The entire room is an object in motion with the lowest shutter speed from a camera a few decades old, rusted through the dust that collects on the outside of my pupils. I roll over in an attempt to make myself more comfortable.
3:40 A.M reads the clock on my bedside.
I sigh and roll back over, throwing my arm over my forehead with my palm facing upwards.
It’s been two weeks of this. Going on three. Why can’t I sleep? Please God let me sleep.
I’m tired but the sleep won’t find me. I remain invisible to the dust that needs to fall on my eyelids. It’s like I don’t exist. The rest of the world is asleep and here I am,
With only my thoughts.