four…for…fore…four…for…fore…am.
Insomnia is drowning in wakefulness.
Your eyes gasp and claw at the darkness, eager to take a breath and drop casually into the cool, sweet realm of unconsciousness. Open your mouth and try to draw in the possibility of sleep. Instead, you’ll find fear rush in like a tide , overwhelming you. It fills you up and then some.
Anxiety looks strikingly similar to air when it dribbles out of your nostrils, she thought.
You let your mind swim to the corners of rooms, clutchingat islands of shadow, furtively hoping they will buoy you out of the davey jones locker of your consciousness. They laugh at you, and push you off, watching you sink further.
Shadows are not lifesavers. They don’t float.
Have you ever swam to the bottom of a pool and lingered there, letting life press on you from all sides? Insomnia is like the bottom of a pool. It fills your ears. And your eyes burn with the effort of self-realization. Shards of light, encased in a transparent beam of hope come down from the heavens, and try to cut a slice out of the murky depths you linger in, but they might as well be inverted mirages-dry as the desert in the middle of a liquid night.
Neurons get tired, like legs treading water. One day they’ll give up, and you wonder whether you’ll sink to the bottom that you didn’t even know existed…
