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Sleep

Yesterday I slept 17 hours of  the 24.  In the nine months since my son's death, I haven't slept very well.  What sleep I get is sporadic, dispersed with wretched memories and flashbacks of this death.  I hear every sound in the house, I twitch with thought and rest is elusive.  But not yesterday, yesterday I slept.

I didn't think about this world, my responsibilities; no desires, no real thoughts, just sleep and rest.

These past nine months have been brutal, life has been a burden. Sleep was nice, welcome, appreciated.

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