My Dearest Valentine:
We've been together a long time; I'm starting to forget what ma vie was like before we were together (granted, the recent addition of children to our life makes me forget many, many things) and I'm totally ok with that.
It's funny that you were in my life when I was a teenager, yet I don't remember you that well. We connected in Math class and then kinda lost touch until my early 20s. I was busy filling my life with parties and general mayhem, but your void was very present. What were you off doing, I wonder, while I was busy missing you in the wee hours of the morning? Who were you snuggling while I watched a new day break with nothing to keep me warm than a large cup of coffee?
I guess I may never know.
Yet, here we are, so many years later, and all I can think about most days is how much I love you. When I wake up in the morning, stretch and then realize you're already gone for the day I start making plans about how I can be with you again.
My eyes burn missing you; my heart longs for you to be near me once more.
I wonder if, today, when you return after lunch, whether I will be able to lay my head on a pillow and know you'll envelope me? Oh, Sleep. My beloved Sleep. Sweet, sweet, Slumber: I am yours.
Let's get one thing straight though: I have valued your friendship and love over the years. You didn't need to give me Mono (Again. For almost a year.) for me to appreciate you. Trust me, after getting through two newborns, countless sicknesses and dogs that have middle-of-the-night emergencies, I covet my time spent under covers with you.
But this new thing, this Neverending Mono, is killing me. I've gone from merely adoring you, Sleep, to junkie status overnight. I wasn't kidding when I said I wake up and immediately begin preparations so I can go to sleep again. I think of nothing except you, Sleep. Well, except for like, an hour and a half after I've had a 4-hour nap, then I can function on a semi-normal basis.
I say "semi-normal," though, because I spend that hour and a half unable to walk or really think, but feeling marvellous. I make text and email plans with friends and loved ones that I've been neglecting because of my sleep addiction and have grand ideas for the near future.
But then, you overtake me and I fall prey to your powers. I awaken hours later, shaking and extremely irritated that our time together was so short (no matter the length). I have no memory of the plans I made (and have since flaked out on) because all I can think of is how and when I will sleep once more. I want to cry when I hear the baby has also awoken: all I want is another 15 minutes. And, Sleep, it's totally unfair that I can't just hustle the nearest shady looking character for some more like a normal junkie does.
You sit there smug in the knowledge that you have the market cornered; here I am, in my Princess Leia costume begging for mercy.
So, my dearest Sleep. My love, my heart, soul, brain, and ability to exist in regular society: Sleep, please fix me and make me whole again. Bring me to a place where I can love you like a friend again, because this addiction is beginning to affect my ability to work, parent and be a wifey. If I promise to build a sleep alter and pray to you every night, would that help? What if I wrote a whole bloggy letter to you announcing your awesomeness to the world? Please. I'm on my hands and knees, which is dangerously close to laying down completely and we know what happens when that takes place: you win. Again.
Just know that whatever it takes I'm willing to do it. All for you, my dearest Sleep.
As for you, Mono, you free-loading bastard, consider yourself served: get the hell outta my house and don't come back. Ever. Screw you and your life-force sucking ways. You stink like rotted, raw chicken guts in the August sun.
Yeah, I said it.
E
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