Nahla
6/30/26 Nahla One of the things that happened in the tumultuous time right after Kate died was that I forgot how to sleep. I had no idea that was even possible -I had always been someone who tilted towards the sleep too much side - could never stay up until midnight on New Year’s Eve, was always getting woken up by the other residents of the queer dorm tipsily belting out MacArthur Park to the point that I wanted to shove their faces in the rain-soaked cake. I assumed that sleep was as automatic a function as breathing. Then, with painful irony, it disappeared at the same time as the one person I could reach for in the middle of the night, whether in person or on the phone. It didn’t really seem to matter since everything had been subsumed into a dismal grey miasma with intermittent stabbing spikes of agony. Day, night, awake, asleep, alive or not, none of it made any difference for a long time. ...