Special | My own little shelter

"Mommy, can you come and tuck me in?!". This is little me, yelling through the whole house, every hour of the evening, probably waking up or scaring every single creature in my neighbourhood. When I was a child -which I still am, in my own opinion, sssh don't tell anyone- I had this problem with sleeping. I could never, ever fall asleep. I basically hated it to go to bed. I would turn and turn and think and think and worry and worry. Because my body was used to the 'not sleeping as much as I needed to', I had a lot of energy in the evenings. I would grab my toys and hide myself under the blankets. I would get my little flashlight and secretly play with my Bratz -did you have those? I had 20 of them, the big ones!- and imagine that they were on vacation in some big, beautiful but dangerous cave. The male doll I had -gosh he was hot- would save the girl and they would get a baby -yes, I know- and be the jungly family that I always wanted to have myself. Yes, I wanted to live in trees, eat raw meat, be extremely dirty and wipe my butt with a leaf. But I'm getting off topic here. My bed was my enemy. I hated it. I hated my bed and I didn't want to go to bed.

While being a teenager -around the age of 13- I began hating my bed even more. I would simply lie on that thing, hoping to fall asleep, worrying like crazy and panicing because I had 5 houurs of sleep left. "Yes, another zombie day tomorrow". My bed was the place where there was no one to distract me. The place where my thoughts went all crazy. Most of the times I was feeling sad and I worried a lot. Oh, sweet teenage struggles. I would think that I'd never get a boyfriend, I would convince myself to never eat fries or chocolate again. I would even, and yes "forever alone" danger here, put my pillows against the wall to have the feeling that there was someone lying behind me too cuddle with me. Someone special. I don't even remember who I imagined it to be, because you know, teenagers love every single "opposite -or same- sex creature" they meet. Well, at least I loved everyone that paid attention to me and was nice to me. Retarted? Probably.

As you can see, my bed and I have never been friends. I would jump on it, I would somersault on it, I would stuff my bed with every single toy I could find. I would read in it and eat on it, getting it all dirty with crumbs and stains. I would probably do everything in/on stead of sleeping in it. On it? Well, you get the message.

But, then, a few days ago, in my adult life -ahum-, I realised that my enemy has turned into my friend. Not only do I have someone to cuddle with -although this is not every single night-, but I can sleep. I can manage to fall asleep within 30 minutes. This, lovely monkeys, is a huge deal to me! Of course I have my worry-moments. Of course I have my Bratz-jungle-moments. No kidding, I don't have those anymore. But, you know, over all, I love my bed. It's soft, it's warm, and I now consider my bed as my own little shelter. My little private hideaway. 

Bed, marry me.


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