In the depth of sleeplessness

3 min read

“My eyelids are heavy, but my thoughts are heavier.”

In the depth of sleeplessness..

Like most people my age I do struggle with the lack of sleep. When ever people ask me why I don’t sleep I often joke about it, saying it’s because I am rich and have too many assets I worry over.

During my sleepless nights my mind can not help itself but wonder. We start off easy with random thoughts like how air pods freak me out because they look like dildos for ears or how I would be burnt at the stake for practicing witchcraft if I existed in the 16th century or even guillotined for reeking of heresy.

Then my narcissism starts to kick in and I start to wonder how God damn hilarious I am only to be crushed by cringe moments that happened 6 years ago. I yell out loud when I am having “severe cringe attack” but then again I remember how big the world is and how insignificant everything in it is. I find that comforting. My smallness in this bizarre temporary place is liberating.

Then it gets personal. I start to remember how that annoying bitch from class gets on my nerves and all the self control it took not to shove that pencil in her eye. Or that one prick from the wifi spot who is too flirtatious, he keeps introducing himself and demands that they ማቆላመጥ him(Shoo shoo you vapid creatures).

Since joining the health department I have lost my health and have been fascinating over how quickly I am adopting to gore( I stomach it like a Viking!). I wonder how many times I roll my eyes in a day?

Then it gets dark."I am nothing with in my soul if not obsessive." Donna Tarrt was right.

The energy i spend fixating on futile things is tremendous. Darker, I start to wonder what it’d feel like to jump off a cliff or drown in the ocean. Darker, what it would feel like to sleep in a burning house. Darker! Or Drive a car in to a wall. L’appel du vide, should we call it that? Perhaps, perhaps.

Then I get existential. I feel absent and like I am being consumed and i am slowly fading in to the nothingness that lurks at the corner of my mind. Am I here? Am I real? I keep looking at my hands once in a while just to make sure that I am here and I am not going invisible.

Bloody Mary? Do you see this ghost of a girl that hovers sleeplessly? Who is this monster that lives under my skin? She has dead eyes and is passionless. No appetite for life. No interest in the world. Okay we are sinking deeper now (sanity instantly hanging by a thread). Oopsie Daisey even Mary has left me to my rant. I hug myself. Regardless, This is such a dear diary moment.

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