For years now, I have not slept. I do not mean to say I have not fallen into bed, pulled the covers over my head, shut my eyes and lost consciousness, but I have not slept in a way that is restful, pleasant, or anything more than a necessity.

The last time I remember truly sleeping was on a camping trip seven years ago. Seven of us, all close friends, one tent. We pitched it in the middle of the wildflower meadow. Come morning, all my friends complained of stiff necks and restless sleep due to the pollen, the ants, the night birds, and mostly due to me snoring.

The footsteps of a fox walking outside the tent, the tickling of ants traipsing over my socks, the accumulating stench of my six unwashed friends, that had been a surprising lullaby, rocking me to sleep.

I do not know what I dreamed that night. I imagine I dreamt of adventure, or of those quiet nights I remember, when the whole family would sit around the fire in comfortable silence, me and my brother silently betting on whether our mother or grandmother would fall asleep first.

What I do remember is how it felt to fall asleep. Safe, secure, discomfort outweighed by a soothing heaviness as the fairies whisked away my conscious mind.

That is how I feel now, in your arms. Safe.

I know tomorrow we will argue again. You will tell me I’m not the one you married, I will plead with you again.

Living with you, loving you, being married to you, it is chaos.

Yet I feel safe.

It is in your arms that for the first time in years, I feel a soothing heaviness, safe and secure, the heavy discomfort of chaos is outweighed, as the fairies that dance in the air whisk away my conscious thought.

Amidst the chaos, I fade away peacefully in your arms.