Mr Sandman,
I’m tired. Its 3pm and I am tired.
I sit here and remind myself that I am blessed. I have a beautiful if not slightly dysfunctional family, I have friends, I have been educated, I can pay my rent every week and I am healthy. But I am tired.
There are more good days than bad days and I smile more than I used to, but there are days when the world seems to fall down on me. The birds stop singing and the bees seem to have gone some place warmer. But as I think, I start to realize that it’s not the birds or the bees that have gone someplace else, it’s me.
My eyes are open and I can see the sun sifting through the trees, I see flowers bloom and I see rainbows encasing their landscape but the color is gone because my eyes are tired.
I run and I feel the wind brush against my body and when I swim I feel the water passing over every inch of my body. Goose bumps and drops of sweat no longer cover my skin because my body is tired.
Evening dinners surrounded by lights and bustling people are just as beautiful as they had always been. Food is presented and served as if it were a masterpiece to rival the Mona Lisa, but I can’t taste it because my senses are tired.
It’s early in the morning before the sun has risen when his fingertips trace my body. His lips brush against my skin as if they were treasuring each moment like it was the last time we would embrace, but I can’t feel it because I am tired.
But now it’s 3pm and I scroll through text books and readings trying to conjure a sentence that is not only relevant but also comprehensive and nothing reaches the page because my mind is tired.
So I pray. I pray in hope that if God is real, he will hear me. I pray because there is a chance that if someone is out there they will hear me, because even though I am screaming right now nobody seems to hear me. So I reside here silently, hoping and praying that in my silence someone might hear me.
I no longer pray for a savior, I just pray that I might find a place to sleep.
prayerfully,
Sweet Someone.