My relationship with sleep is fraught. For me, the journey towards sleep is a precarious one, relying on a shifting portfolio of mental states, and an irritating need for silence.
When I finally sink into oblivion, my rest can be shattered by the sound of my partner breathing, or a hoon tearing down the road at the top of our driveway. Once broken, sleep lies around me in sharp, little pieces, jabbing with the promise of a difficult day ahead.
