It isn't that late but the house is quiet like 3am and the windows are black from the night hitting them.
My heart has a periodic murmur, a moth in my throat, and when I hold my breath, its off-beat racks my body. My lips are chapped and I am molting. My skin is peeling. My muscles feel limp; there's no anger therefore no fight, just dread and defeat.
I know that I have to be tough now, I am just not sure where it will come from this time. Crumbling reinforcements.
Sometimes I think of myself as Amelia Bedelia, which is slight solace, but I shouldn't go around like I'm living in a children's book.
I have Dylan to do that for me. She is asleep behind me, inhaling and exhaling the faintest snores and every now and then I'll hear a mumble and a whimper. Sometimes I compare it to a sleeping dog, having dreams of chasing rabbits. It really can lift the worst weight off my shoulders.
I would be so helpless without her.