Can't sleep, counting blessings, counting sheep.

What do you think about when you can't sleep?

Tonight my brain is overwhelmed with memories. They make my heart beat hard and slow. Each time it pumps, it hits the inside of my chest with force. It is the kind of strike that resonates through every bone and every muscle in my body. Like a prize fighter that slowly and surgically throws lefts, rights and uppercuts into the center of my being. There is nothing I can do, but sit awake and think about every punch that is thrown.

The problem is that everything running through my head is so random. The stripper that told about being raped by her father when she was eleven. My Mom's attempt at suicide (for the second time). Singing songs in backyards. My personal fears of failure and being alone. The list goes on.

I am forced to write. My personal little way of turning demons into words. Confessing. I pray silently that by writing this, I will somehow appease some of the dust covered skeletons that are rapping on the closet door.

I wonder if I will ever be brave enough to clean out that fucking closet?