First of all I want to start this letter with an apology for all the times I snubbed you as a child and teenager, back when I used to think that sleep and going to bed was just something that kept me away from all the other things I was supposed to be doing. I never understood how people could sleep for 12 hours-straight.
Oh, how things have changed, especially over the last three years.
You see, I’ve gone from being that person I described above to being a person who loves her bed, and not just for the sleep either, even if six-hours a night became eight, then nine, and sometimes 12. Sometimes there are naps, too. Some of them I crave, others happen by accident. Sometimes I crawl into you with no intention of sleeping. Sometimes I just want the comfort of your sheets.
It is you I turn to on the days when the world feels hazy and hard and I want to put things on pause for a while. You are the vantage point that helps life seem manageable on days when I feel sadder than I can explain, or so anxious that moving requires more physical and mental energy than I can muster because my worries sap it all up.
I have done some of my best writing with you. I have done some of my worst writing with you.
I judge myself so very hard for the amount of time I spend in you now, and I don’t doubt that some others will too. I just wanted to say that I appreciate you now so much more than I ever thought I would.
Thank you for always being there for me.