To be 35 at 4am.

i’d rather sleepwalk through the day than sleep through the life that chose to visit me at 3:45am on my birthday. read & subscribe here: https://biancaleamorra.substack.com/

Episode Transcript

(00:00):
Hello, and welcome to another episode of help me see.
Today I am coming to you at 5 58 in the morning.
On my birthday.
I am.
Going to read you what I woke up to.

(00:21):
Right.
Not planned, obviously.
Just woke up.
It's 4:00 AM on my 35th birthday, and I am kept awake.
Wondering who I am.

(00:41):
a, frantic need.
Uh, frantic need.
Just go to sleep.
He'll be fucked.
The rest of this busy day.
If you wake up now.
But I can't.
Life is happening now.

(01:02):
My restlessness is awake again.
I cannot help the preoccupation.
I think.
Once I can figure out.
What the fuck.
I am trying to figure out about myself.
About life.
I can be more present.

(01:24):
In myself.
In life.
Knowing full well.
That is bullshit.
Every month I go to the photos.
And make sense of it all.
And then it's gone.
Remember, forget, remember, forget.

(01:47):
What good does it really do me to force myself back to sleep? So I can be more awake for everyone else during the day.
I want to be awake.
For me.
Now.
Eyes open to what swallows me by day.
In the blackness of the early morning hours, it lets me get a glimpse.

(02:12):
But I'm scared to glimpse.
A pit in my stomach.
The unique pain.
Of being awake and in the natural hour.
As if you're not allowed to be here.
As if it's cheating.
You can no more here.

(02:34):
I'm drawn and it makes me uncomfortable, scared even.
It feels close to death.
When there are no distractions a week.
What is awake.
Pontificating what I am seeing.

(02:54):
So few tile in this non light.
Just be.
It's enough.
It's essential.
You're nothing without it.
But what if I find my being.
In the pontificating.
Is that wrong? Sometimes it feels right.

(03:19):
I have an unquenchable thirst for living in most of that living is still.
Racing mind, pounding heart, still bones.
Reading thinking, creating a, still that feels anything, but.
I feel alone.
I feel alone.

(03:41):
I feel alone, but I think I want it that way.
I have a beautiful, loving family and I feel alone.
I have beautiful loving friends.
And they feel alone.
I have made a life of sharing my inner most thoughts, and I feel alone.

(04:03):
Years of speaking and writing and sharing.
And I feel like I have said nothing.
It feels like I've done nothing.
It feels like I figured out nothing.
And yet.
I wouldn't do much different.

(04:25):
What the fuck does that even mean? I think I'm trying to find.
The grand meaning the sum of all my efforts and the truth is in the efforts itself.
The unavoidable being.
The inevitable being.

(04:47):
The unquestionable being.
My fieriness action, even if it looks completely still.
Is my version of being.
You cannot read a label from inside the bottle and you also cannot stop me from trying.

(05:09):
All of the stretching and pushing and pulling.
The lines of proof.
For my constant.
Furrowed brow.
Never in vain when an instant of understanding devours me.
An instant of peace and knowing in the kind of being that vibrates.
There it is.

(05:32):
This.
It's all I'm ever looking for.
This.
At five 15 on October 26th, 2024.
I am sitting in the dark with my laptop on a rocking chair, drinking coffee with the brisk air coming in through the window.

(05:54):
I am writing what seems like shitty poems at best stream of consciousness, at least.
My family peacefully asleep.
My dog at my feet.
And I am happy.
To be alone with my thoughts.
Is some of the happiest I ever am.
Even if I'm not satisfied with the thoughts themselves.

(06:18):
I am happy.
I gave up on sleep.
I'd rather sleep walk through the day than sleep through the life that chose to visit me at 3:45 AM on my birthday.
I gave birth to my son at five 15.
And that was far too early to bring life into the world, but somehow.

(06:38):
Today.
By 15 feels like the perfect time.