I hate and love night.
I love it because there's no sun to burn me. I love it because it's usually quieter than the day.
I hate it because I'm supposed to be sleeping, but often can't. I hate it because it seems that it's always night when the bad thoughts start up. Most of my panic attacks happen at night: most of my crying jags.
If it weren't for the bad thoughts, night might be okay.
And it's so damn hard to articulate the bad thoughts. They run in my head like a recording on constant playback, but I can't actually say most of them out loud, or even type them. I hate myself for even having the thoughts.
I wish they'd just go away, but they never will. They're in my head, and I can't evict them.
I love it because there's no sun to burn me. I love it because it's usually quieter than the day.
I hate it because I'm supposed to be sleeping, but often can't. I hate it because it seems that it's always night when the bad thoughts start up. Most of my panic attacks happen at night: most of my crying jags.
If it weren't for the bad thoughts, night might be okay.
And it's so damn hard to articulate the bad thoughts. They run in my head like a recording on constant playback, but I can't actually say most of them out loud, or even type them. I hate myself for even having the thoughts.
I wish they'd just go away, but they never will. They're in my head, and I can't evict them.