I try to sleep, hoping for a quick transition into the black nothingness that is sleep. It’s never that easy though. I lay awake at night, suffering through my past failures, faults, what I should’ve done or said, where I would be if I did something different…just one thing. I would lay awake at night for hours, inside of my own head, inside of the purgatory somewhere between sleep and consciousness. The white walls of my room taunting me with their peaceful blankness, seeming to soak up all sound.

My body tricks me. I’ll be tired, or…I think I’m tired, so I go to bed. But I just lie there, trying to slip away. This was every night. So I stay awake until I am physically and mentally worn out. 3 am, sometimes 5.

Sleeping used to be so easy. You just lay down and fall into your dream, or nightmare, sometimes nothing at all. Dreaming…hmph..that’s something else. Sleep is my escape from my life. I like to dream, because I get to be happy in my dreams, but eventually I wake up and realize that it wasn’t real. I hate waking up from dreams. At least nightmares make me happy to wake up. Sometimes I prefer the nightmares, they make it easier to transition into the real world. I wish I didn’t dream at all, that it was all just blackness. The blackness is the easiest, most peaceful.

I have to make a choice at night. Do I want to torture myself by staying up until I’m falling asleep where I sit, or do I want to go to bed now and be punished by my mind?

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