I think I'd prefer a hurricane
The gentle waves of sleep evade me because of you. You are a storm keeping me up at night, fueled by the winds of my insecurities. You throw my thoughts around my brain, and beat me with hypotheticals. What if I hadn’t said that? What if you learned to communicate? What if this is all in my head? What if it’s not?
I think I would prefer a hurricane over the storm that is you. A hurricane has an eye that brings a brief peace, but I don’t believe there is an “I” that is a part of you anymore. So I will continue to be weathered by your wind, tossing and turning until someone else can bring me back into calmer waters.