Nights of Insomnia

Night 1

in·som·ni·a

inˈsämnēə/

noun

habitual sleeplessness; inability to sleep.

synonyms: sleeplessness, wakefulness, restlessness, inability to sleep

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I lay there on my bed, not in complete darkness, but enough to have the brain register night. I turned on my side and came face to face with my sister. Her calm, deep breaths was the only thing that disrupted the eerie silence that came only with summer nights here on our farm. I relished the silence, for it's only when she's asleep that she's quiet.

I rolled on my stomach and watched the light breeze come in and push my curtains out, occasionally having them brush my cheek. I didn't know why my father kept insisting on the AC to be on so high, for at night there's a nice wind, but I didn't question him.

This wind was a luxury during the sweating months that make up what we know of as summer. It's sad to know I'm the only one partaking of this pleasure.

I rolled over to the very edge of my bed and silently placed my bare foot on the cold, firm wooden floor. I shivered slightly and cursed my father for the blasted AC under my breath, but kept my warm, pulsing foot on the unforgiving ground.

Soon both feet were off the safety net net I like to call my bed. I silently stood up and padded my way across the minefield my sister calls a room. I made my way slowly, careful not to step on anything or make a single sound.

I finally reached the dark hallway. It looked so foreign under a different shade of lighting. For example, the simple nightstand that holds a picture of my family looked suddenly murderous. I placed my hands around my elbows as I continued my journey through the seemingly endless, alien landscape.

I came upon the kitchen and placed my, already freezing, feet onto the tiles, which offered no relief. I quickly crossed the vast open space, ignoring the desperate cry of the fridge, begging me to take some of the deliciousness that very fridge contains.

I have finally reached my destination- the back door. I gingerly placed my hand on the cool metal, instantly cooling down my sweaty palm. I turned the knob slowly and grinned in satisfaction as the door popped open, silent as always. I gently tugged the door close behind me as I breathed in the cold summer air.

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Insomnia isn't something I've had to deal with my whole life. It all started a couple years back. Since then I haven't been able to get a full nights rest. But it didn't matter. I can run on two or less hours most often then not.

Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I wasn't diagnosed with depression all those years ago. But I guess it doesn't matter now. Insomnia and Death have me in their grip now, and I don't think they'll ever let go.

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I don't know what it is about the stars. They never give up. It doesn't matter that no one watches them, or cares about them. They always are up there, twinkling, waiting for someone to get lost. Then they swoop in, bright and mighty to show them the way home again.

Sometimes I feel like I'm a star. No one cares about me, although all I do is give, and give, and give. Surrounded by darkness, and cursed to care about things that care about you. But then again, in all honesty, I just don't know what it is about the stars.

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I love swinging on the homemade swing my father made us two years back. Before... everything. It was what I needed when I couldn't stand being the house. When it was suffocating. When I needed a remote place to cry. Or plan my death.

And I guess that's why I'm sitting on it now. Tendrils from my sock-bun fell into my eyes and my bare feet got dirty quickly from brushing the ground one too many times, but I don't care. I just went higher. Faster.

Maybe I can reach the stars. Maybe I CAN fly. I just want to escape everything. I just want answers to everything I don't have the ability to answer.
Soon my legs quit kicking beneath me and I slowed to a stop. Tears wet my face and I buried my head into my hands, wishing I could disappear for good. The stars continued to sparkle above me, but I didn't care enough to look. I collapsed to the ground and finally let my monsters, my demons, free. My body shook as they bombarded my sanity, and my fingers itched for the sharp steel hidden in my room that would free me.

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The idea of cutting is simple. I'm constantly drowning. Whether it be from pain, or thoughts. When the knife and skin connect, I get lifted. As I cause myself pain I smile, because it lifted me from the despair, and let me see light. I have been sad for so long, that now I am numb, and I would rather feel pain than nothing at all.

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I always destroy every piece of evidence before I lay down with my sister. With my wrists and thighs bandaged, and the kitchen knife scrubbed to perfection, I carefully laid down, looking at my sister in the pale moonlight. Her face was coated with sweat and I thought grimly, 'another one'. I wrapped my arms around her small frame. She snuggled into the embrace, although I could still see the physical effects of her nightly battles with her own personal demons.

"Jocelyn?" She mumbled in her sleep. I kissed her forehead once in response. She calmed down slightly, but continued to sweat and slightly stir in my arms. I looked around her at the door, impatiently waiting for tomorrow night, where I can be free once more.