good night
I have learned to fall asleep in your arms.
That, perhaps, is the most unoriginal sentence I have spoken in my life. But I feel that it needs to be said.
I cannot remember the last time I have had a good night’s sleep. Or, to say the least, healthy. I have learned to fall asleep long after midnight, when my eyes have grown tired from my screen. I have learned to fall asleep at ten in the evening in the middle of the school week even amidst my requirements, purely from exhaustion. I have learned to fall asleep just after dinner after being awake for a day and a half because of an accidental caffeine intake, or in an attempt to fix myself.
But I cannot remember the last time I fell asleep before midnight simply because it was routine. Because my body knew how to. I cannot remember the time my eyes shut with slumber at an acceptable time, not from exhaustion. I cannot remember the last time I had a full night’s sleep without sleeping in until noon.
And then came you.
With you, I have learned to feel safe in your embrace no matter the time, no matter the setting. I do not need the blinding blue from my phone nor the fabricated sounds of nature to feel at peace. The sound of your breathing, I have learned, is all that it takes. And that, perhaps, is the most comforting thought I have in this world.
When it’s late at night, and I am enveloped by your presence in the darkness, I can think to myself: I am home. My being rests in your hands, and you tuck it away the way you pull the comforter over the both of us after turning off the lights, making sure we are swallowed in warmth, and in our love for each other that keeps us together each night. My heart rests in yours, and it is safe. I know it is.
Sometimes, in the middle of the night, I awaken to your fingers fiddling with mine, and I cannot help but smile. I smile, for you are so beautifully unaware of the mannerisms I chance upon while you are asleep. When the pad of your thumb brushes back and forth over the back of my hand, I think to myself, I am here. Do not worry. We are together and we are safe and we are loved. You are loved. And I slowly fall back to sleep, unconsciously squeezing your hand a little bit tighter until my grasp loosens, but never lets go.
But sometimes it does. Some mornings, I awaken to one of us on the floor, but most days we are an entangled mess of limbs, breaths mingling with each other. And in every sense of the statement, I no longer know where one ends and the other begins.
In the summer time, it is awfully messy with our hair sticking to our necks and our sweat mixing, but we suffer the discomfort together. For we would much rather feel each other’s presence even if it is several inches farther than usual, than not to sleep together at all. And darling, it is these summer mornings that I cherish when we have to be away from each other.
When we are away from each other, I sleep just fine, do not fret. But it’s not the same. No, not all. Because fine does not mean without a worry; for I do worry. When one of us has to visit family, or is away at work, or when we are just not on good terms - no, not even at all - I worry.
I wonder, Are you sleeping yet? Have you eaten? Have you tucked yourself in yet, or are you still stuck on your laptop as usual? I at least wish you have taken off your glasses, because no matter how many times I have had to remind you each night, I still have to do it because you do not listen. You do not listen when I tell you that it is too late for you to still be working, or that sitting in the way that you do will give you back pain later in life, or that I miss you and I wish you were here right now.
That’s right; I worry.
And it is another one of those nights where I wonder these things: Did you remember to turn on the timer on your air conditioner? Have you put on your moisturizer? Is your hair still wet from your night shower, and are you sleeping just fine?
I worry.
I worry if you will ever actually enter my life, for night after night I think of these things and I think of you and I can only hope. I can only hope that one day, all these dreams will be my reality and I will finally rest, knowing that I have been loved all this time. I will rest, and every night will be like a dream a hundred times over and I will no longer have to ask for more. For you will be there, in my arms, completely real and exactly what I need.
Maybe I ask for too much. Maybe I should just sleep.
Good night.
I will try not to wish for you.