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Every night at 8, on the dot, I try to sleep. I shut off all my screens, drink the "sleepy time tea" my mother sent me with a well meaning if condescending post-it-note that reads "This always helps me settle down for the night, kisses!". As soothing as lavender is supposed to smell all it does is fill my head with cotton ball buzzing. Reminds me of the frustration when something is just out of reach. Like a sneeze that just disappears. Regardless, I "lay me down to sleep" then the shadows start to sharpen. Every creak of the house sends off alarm bells in my brain and the thing out of the corner of my eye knows what's coming. Snuggled up under a duvet that never sits the right way, with pillows that neve feel the right height, I writhe in reluctance to rest. Before I long I start thinking about what's awaiting me. I am so mentally exhausted that I feel this haze just... envelop me. Like I'm gliding through mist - a fog with eyes peering through, readying themselves, biding time. The worst part is actually falling asleep. Everybody sleeps. It's impossible to avoid, believe me I've tried. I've read about micro-naps, I've tried caffeine pills, meditation, no matter what the body eventually gives in. But every night my mind refuses. It tries to hold out for so long until... I've dealt with sleep paralysis all my life but this was new. This wasn't any old monster under the bed. This one doesn't want to hurt me. It's not some angry animal lashing out, it feels like it needs me for something, or needs me to do something. Its just... familiar. Even from the first time I felt it. It has always been there...every night, waiting for when I would look and see it. Clawing at the base of my skull begging me to acknowledge it... but last night was different. It has grown tired of waiting for me to give in and acknowledge it, it has grown impatient and hungry. It needs to be seen, it needs my attention, and now I am staring it in the face. Her. It... she... is me, and she is beautiful but she seems so sad and angry. I ask what's wrong and she says... Im tired of you keeping me under your bed. I'm the you from your dreams yet you banish me to them instead of letting me feel the sunlight on my face. You feel me bubbling under your skin every day yet you push me further down. Did I not meet your expectations? Was it because I'm not pretty like them? Not beautiful like them? Well of course not! Why must you define us in the negative. We are not pretty like them, we will never be beautiful LIKE THEM. We are beautiful like us, and no one can do it better. So I am here, she is here, and she is... beautiful.