Amateur Poet

When I tell people I have sleep paralysis, they tend to mourn for my lack of sleep. They ask, "Do you see demons?" or, "Is it true you can't move?" Others sympathize with what they think I may be experiencing: fear. It's odd, in my opinion. To fear the lurking shadows that creep from the corners of my eyes. I felt numb and heavy throughout my entire body, desperate to twitch a finger to feel ten times lighter. People think that's scary. Honestly, it's not the best way to start a 4:00 morning on a Monday. But it's also not the most frightening thing either.

I do not concern myself with what's happening in my dreams. Not even the haunting of sleep paralysis. The real stuff keeps me awake, like the tiny blue button from the fan that lights up the room. Sometimes, on windy days, the rattling of the screen door on the window makes me clench my jaws. Or worse: hearing the shadows whisper behind my back. She's a snake descaling against the back of my skull, leaving so much doubt behind. It's evidence that everything you are afraid of is true. What scares me, what keeps me up at night, the truth is: that only I can love myself. I would rather be haunted by paralysis every night than realize I haven't experienced what it is to be loved.

too far gone to find myself