Why I Write at Night ….

When the house is quiet, and everyone is asleep, that is when my mind races. That’s when I keep reliving this nightmare one flash of memory at a time. No matter how long I live, I will never forget any detail, and I’ll never forget just how much losing someone I love so much has impacted my life and changed everything about me. I will remember every tear I cried, every time it felt like I couldn’t go on. I will remember how hard it is to get through each day. Almost 9 years later, I still hear the minutes ticking, counting down the days until my precious niece can make her own decision and come back to the family that loves her like no other. A family she belongs to. A family she was taken from.

I haven’t slept without anxiety or nightmares since I received that dreadful phone call in November, 2004, my mother hysterical on the other end, telling me news I still refuse to accept.

At night when I should be resting, I obsess  about this incredible injustice that has been done to us. All I know is that it hurts. It makes me so angry I feel like coming out of my own skin. My heart pounds, and I just want to get up out of bed, turn on all the lights, and do something. But what can I do?. I lie paralyzed with a burning hatred toward those responsible.

I write at night because that’s when it hurts the most. Thinking that another day has passed and another day I have been separated from my flesh and blood.

In my mind, I am screaming to God for help….

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