I literally haven't slept in four days. The night before last I laid in my bed and watched the hands go around my clock.
Tick, tock, tick, tock.
Six hours later I threw the sheets off my bed in a fury, got out of bed, grabbed my pillows and flung them against the back door; wasting all the precious energy I had saved up to fight consciousness.
After that I curled up in the middle of my bare bed and stared deep into the folds of clothes in my closet. The darkness made me see things that weren't there.
Twenty minutes later I sat up and shuffled toward my alarm clock on the far wall, straining to see the time. My heart dropped.
I got in bed almost eight hours ago.
Nothing helps. I have no clear cut symptoms that would classify my sleeplessness. No stress, no anxiety. No thoughts that won't go away. Except one.
Just beyond my reach.
Without sleep the more vibrant layers of my personality flake off like snake skin. I'm exposed as dull and listless. This is a horrible feeling.
I don't look people in the eye. I'm shiftless and exhausted.
I can't even explain what this is like. I can't even explain what this is like and all I ever do is explain. What it is like. To be me.
But I can't find her lately when I stare deep into that closet at night. Can't find her through the messed up things my mind makes me see at moments of dawn, the morning light hanging, dripping from the corners of my ceiling.
I can't find her. Maybe I'm not there.