Tuesday, June 21, 2005

Too tired to have a good title.

I will regret writing this post tomorrow morning.

Not because of the content, but because I should be sleeping right now. It is currently 11:30 p.m. My bedtime is 11:00. One might laugh at this bedtime, and I understand the amusement. Bedtime is for children, the time when parents read them stories and tuck them in, kiss them good nights, say your prayers and amen good night.
Bedtime is also for people who get very grouchy when they do not have at least 8 hours of sleep. I am one of those people.

I love to sleep.
I love to drift into blissful dreams, allowing my imagination to take me all of the places I want to go, whether it be into my past, flying, or even into a lover's bed. Dreamland is truly a sacred realm that I look forward to entering every night. My inhibitions are left at my bedroom door as I undress for bed. I even try to trick myself into a dream sometimes... I lay down and concentrate very hard on what I want to dream about. I curl up with my doll (yes I sleep with a doll- get over it) and pretend she's human and snuggle myself to sleep.

Yes. I'm aware this is pathetic.

I don't care.

My therapist gave me my doll when I was only 6 years old. (again- aware that I was in therapy at 6- again- get over it). And ever since she entered my world she has been in bed with me. She's gotten kicked out a few times when I wanted to make room for someone new, but, like an amazing lover, I always welcome her back into my bed. She doesn't have a name, but she is stained from years of crying, laughing, drooling, kissing- admittedly, I practiced on her when I was young, and make up. Half of her hair is gone, but I have it pulled back into a stylish pony, so the other dolls don't mock her when I am gone. Her hair is red (like mine) and braided like an African queen (like I always wanted to be). Huge green eyes, lined by black permanent marker, when I thought i was the most amazing make up artist ever.

She is beautiful.

She wears her scars openly. Honestly. Hides nothing and still smiles. She knows who she is. Wiser than she appears, she hides all of my secrets. She keeps them safe, behind her smile and in her balding head. She's heard whispers in the dark, heavy breathing silenced by the parents in the next room, the sobs of broken hearts, and the happiness of love. She's watched me grow from a girl into a *gulp* adult.

And now I have kept her waiting.
I must to bed- with my lady love. My doll.
Oh what a woman she is.
posted by Kellie @ 11:25 PM |

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