darkness

I've been laying awake since 3 am, sleep eluding me. The numbers on the clock are a double edged sword, their dim glow searing through my skull with a piercing pain as they slowly mark the passing of time as morning draws nearer. Each change of the minute taunts me with the loss of sleep, a state that is both coveted and unattainable. Minutes become hours and I see the day stretching out before me, one in which my internal clock will be out of sync with the rest of the world.

The mechanical sounds of the swing seem incredibly loud as my baby sleeps fitfully cradled in its cold plastic. I'm too restless to have her snuggled into bed with me, there's no need for both of us to be awake. Despite the blankets I have tucked around her she seems cold, and my heart hurts as I watch her moving, unsettled, in the arms of a substitute that she finds inadequate.

More pills. I feel as if I'm slowly poisoning my body, filling it full of chemicals that nature never intended. The number of pills remaining is far less than needed for the number of days remaining until I can get more. Logically I know that I should ration them out, the days at the end when there are no more meds remaining will be excruciating. Yet I still reach for more, hoping for a temporary reprieve.

Dawn approaches, bringing with it the chaos of the day, but the darkness inside remains.