I’ve been playing this little game in my head: to write, or not to write? I feel like I have nothing to say. Winter is hitting me hard, the last couple weeks especially. I know it’s not actually winter yet, but you tell that to the two feet of snow on my lawn.
I’ve spent a lot of time in bed lately. I slept a little over 12 hours the other night. I skipped dinner and work and let myself be unconscious for as long as I could. (In my defense, I didn’t have to be at work, it was just when I was planning to go.)
My nightmares have been plaguing me again. They prey on my deepest hurts, fears, and insecurities. They ruin me for an entire day. Sometimes longer. I hate them. I wish I could take one of those things that Dumbledore gives to Harry to give him a dreamless sleep.
I’m sick of the stupid games my mind plays with me.