Being deprived of sleep feels like a silent theft, stripping away my right to rest. It's a cycle: humans took away my basic rights, and now I'm willingly robbing myself of quality sleep. Most of the time, I brush off the consequences of my sleepless nights, but there's a lurking fear that one day, it will all come crashing down.
But hey, let's spin it positively. If I'm wide awake at night and unable to catch any Z's during the day, when will I ever get a proper night's sleep?
The silver lining? It's when sickness hits, and my body decides to ditch the unspoken rule of daytime sleep. Or when rain pours down on a chilly night—those cold nights trigger memories of a one-sided love story I'd rather forget.
So, I've self-diagnosed with sleep insomnia. Why? Not because I don't know what it means, but because, well, it's kinda cool to label myself like that. In a world obsessed with fancy words, aesthetics, and eccentricity, who's anyone to judge? Flip the page and maybe you'll discover a new emotion along the way.
As for my inner enemy, they're battling their own demons: PTSD, ADHD, OCD, and a sleep disorder. It's like whispers in my ear, reminding me of the fragility of the human psyche.
In the end, I'm grateful it's just whispers—nothing more, nothing less.
D.a.n.i.e.l.l.a
