Sometimes, if it’s early enough in the morning, I’ll burst awake, something suddenly pulling from unconsciousness. My heart rate is elevated, adrenaline released and instinctively I reach and look over to my other side – expecting him to be there.
The silhouette of a person briefly appears from the mounds in the covers and collusions between my sight and mind bring pause, making me think someone actually is laying still – a restrained gasp brings the question: is he here?
Within seconds the realization resets and the consequence of time sets in. No one is there, he doesn’t want to be with you, and he doesn’t even remember you.
Learning to sleep on the whole of the bed is one task: daunting. It’s not loneliness I fear, it’s the reminder it brings that makes me fearful to wake up each morning. There are some nights I dread going to sleep – the outcome is either I dream about what was, or wake up to a shock of what is.
I can accept the responsibility for the pain I’ve caused others, but cannot accept the pain I feel for the responsibility. Some people call this pain morality.
I call this pain being awake. So I wonder: does being asleep make me immoral