Living with labels,

and with out sleep...

I wondered how long it would take for the crazy to start showing up here. The wait is over. Crazy has reared it's big ugly head and it's shaking and scared and lost and trying really hard not to cry.

Crying is like standing on top of the rail, looking down at the water below, egging yourself on to jump. Sometimes chemicals and crying work together and you feel better. Sometimes it's a spiral down the rabbit hole, and I'm not pretty enough to be Alice.

I started to say I can't sleep but the truth is I wont. I won't give in. I can't give in. Nor can I justify this to myself. I just /wont/ give in. Sleep is one of my controls. It's a way to, hurt myself, dull the senses.

Sleep is scary and bigger then me. What happens if I don't wake up? Or if I wake up screaming? What happens if sleep brings back a memory or a thought that I don't want to have? What then?

Living with so many labels plastered all over me it's a wonder I don't get lost more often. I started to list them. The good ones. The sad ones. Ones that are just the plain truth. Then I lay here and hit backspace until they were all gone. I didn't want to have stare down all the labels other people give me, that I give my self.

When I came into this world I was giving a crazy amount of labels, we all were. However the first one, the one thats counts? The one that I don't share with anyone else? That was my name. The second one was daughter.

It's 4:01 am and those are the only two labels that I'm willing to look at. Send the Sandman by when you find him and until then love me anyway?

- K