I yearned for the night. It was like a cave I longed to crawl into. Sleep had become elusive – hard for me to catch, hard for me to hold. I sat at the edge of my bed, facing the window, watching the warm lights in the apartment blocks outside flicker on and off. The quiet, the absolute quiet, sank deep into the pit of my belly and rooted me to the earth. I became aware of my body, slow and pregnant with guilt, and I was too tired to run from it, too tired to halt my unravelling.
Am I going mad?
In the early hours of the morning, I took a notepad and pen and tried to doodle my way out of insomnia.
I found myself writing the word ‘Help’ over and over.