Sleep and suffocate

It’s so much easier to just stay inside. It’s warm in here and the air is still. Outside the wind is cold and it’s too much. Too much muchness. I like the walls. I like how they shelter and protect and keep the muchness away from me. I can sleep inside.

But then, I think, maybe it’s too still. Maybe it’s too warm. The walls feel smothering and overbearing and I can’t breathe. The air is outside and I’m in here and here is crushing me.

There’s nowhere to go. Outside is too much, inside is not enough. I can’t sleep out there but I can’t breathe in here. There’s nowhere to go.

I sleep and suffocate, then breathe in my insomnia. There’s no in between.

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