By Catherine Moscatt
Artwork by Alli Rowe
1,2,3
21, 22
I touch the spine of each notebook as I count
It’s the fourth time tonight
And I should be asleep
My very soul exhausted
From the constant stress
My mind won’t let me rest
I’m tired
Because it’s 3 am and I should be asleep but instead I am rooting through my hamper, desperate to find that one shirt, to make sure it’s still there
My mind plays games with me
I thought we would both outgrow them: we haven’t
Tickles in the back of my mind turn into obsessions, into compulsions
A descent into irrational behavior
And with it comes the darkness
The darkness
Makes it hard to remember
That light exists at all
1, 2, 3
I wish I could count myself into reassurance, into relief
But I don’t think I can count that high
