Insomnia
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1: Don’t tell me to rest. I don’t need rest! I need more time, clarity, more space between thoughts. The night listens when you don’t. Out there, everything stops; in here, I can finally move
2: You wouldn’t understand. I am so efficient, so precise. Chores, messages, new plans, a better version of myself carved from sleepless light. Sleep is primitive. I’m evolved.
3: You’re right. I’m hungry, trying to chill. I’m going to eat a ton of pasta from the pot, take a hot bath, grab my toy and fk myself to sleep. Again. And again. Until the thing dies in my hand, and I’m more excited than calm. But now the battery’s gone. So is mine.
4: Go to bed, I’ll follow soon. Surely. The calm keeps me awake. I’m managing, really. It’s still too early. My pulse knocks out my ribs, asking to be stopped. The skin itches. Every nerve rehearses overload. I feel sore. Not only my eyes. It’s my soul that’s feeling sore. Or what’s left of it.
5: I should take something you say? No. I won’t be ruled by chemicals. Sleep must come honestly, like forgiveness, like rain. It will pass. It always passes. Except tonight, and the night before.. there’s a hum in the wall, in the wire, in my head. I’m counting the spaces between beats until they swallow themselves. Nothing is as loud as the silence chewing through my thoughts.
6: The outside glows red, it becomes hostile, unreal. Those windows look drawn in chalk, curtains tear the fabric of reality. Time is leaking through their seams. Something’s wrong with them. Or with me. In black I fade, becoming the pattern of the bed, my warm grave. The only place safe.
7: Thoughts wash out mid-sentence. Memory skips frames as my existence flickers; I can’t remember how I got here. I forgot which language I dream in. Images wake me - a punch to the gut. The birds start too soon; still like warning that came too late.
8: There’s movement in the corner, maybe it’s me, finally lying down. The red light leaks through the wall, touches my face. I tell you, I’m fine! I whisper to the dark; it’s coming for me, whispering back my name.
Insomnia
Insomnia.