Not sorry, not sleeping.
I don't sleep until the birds have awoken and the sun is up. I tie a scarf over my eyes to remind myself what it's like to have darkness, to remind myself that I ought to keep my eyes closed if I wish to sleep. It never gets dark in this home, not even in the winter when the city lights seep through the blinds and the curtains and the roller blinds. Now I just try to imagine what it's like, the darkness that is lack of light.
London was heaven to me. A whole week without a single anxiety attack, a whole week of a world that was V and I and no one we knew. It was also a week of sleeping at night. It was me looking after V instead of the other way round, most of the time, anyway. It was me seeing V see the things I once saw for the first time.
I'm sorry it upsets some of
my friends
the people I know that I am with someone who makes me happy. I'm not sorry that he makes me happy.