Hands reach out and pluck me from the darkness. They are soft familiar hands and in my sleepy stupor I begin my search for comfort. I quickly find milk and drift back into my dreams.
I open my eyes into night. Night is like the womb, except it is cold and dry. I am alone and I am certain the world is over. I am overwhelmed with sadness and cry out. I don't know where I am or what nowhere is, but I am nowhere. I am alone, hopeless, and helpless.
On the chest of the milky one, I find milk once more. It is a familiar feeling, though I am fairly certain this is the first time I have ever tasted this sweet liquid filling the hole on my face and dripping down into my center. The liquid brings a sweet nothingness.
I awake and I am alone. My cries echo through the emptiness. I cry out to no one because I am alone. I don't know where I am or who I am. I think this is the beginning of everything. I am at the beginning of the world. But this is the end. Everything is over. There is no hope and there is nothing. Tears blind me from the darkness.
A hand. Everything is okay. Milk. Sleep dreams.
Dark. Alone. Tears. I am the first. I am over. Milk. Sleep.
Dark. Tears. Milk. Sleep.
I am the infant version of Drew Berrymore from 50 First Dates.
They say co-sleeping is good for me or bad for me. The way I see it (or don't see it because it's dark), is that it's dark and I'm alone either way. Perhaps co-sleeping is just a conspiracy and I really am alone in the dark of night. Perhaps no one will answer my cry of desperation.
