MyEgoTripped

Erin W. H. Bourke At the edge of sleep, that tender moment between, is the true horror of my existence. I see it clearly, and can only hope the light of day will erase all memory of that moment. "How can I live, knowing the rot that awaits me?" I ask myself that every night. Every day. Every single moment for every breath I take. I cannot forget, that moment is clear and sharp, a living pulsing shard of glass piercing my mind. But maybe you’re one of the fortunate one for whom sleep is something you slip into unaware, one moment trying to relax after a long day, the next awakening to an alarm or dog barking or whatever, with nothing