I have come to a point where I am not certain anymore if I cannot sleep, or if I just want to test the gods how long I can resist the stupid demons they sent me. It has been the second night, the third night, the fourth one? I honestly don't even know anymore. It's a miracle I can still write words in a proper syntax.
Or not.
Some things I attempted:
1. Biting lips. And no— not like a book protagonist subtly seducing her vampire boyfriend. I bit mine until they bled. Would it do anything? Not really. At least, I knew I was still alive. Of course, this was a dumb thing to do.
The brain stops working after 2 am, after all, and anything you hear after this is not real anymore.
2. Who the fuck made Simpsons an edgy, lofi icon? You gotta hand it to teenagers being stupid. (Sturgeon's law= 90% of everything is shit, humans included. Go wallow in your sense of superiority until you eventually realize existence means nothing.)
3. Ok this was a bad move. The head rarely bleeds. A bump or bruise is all there is. Kinda ugly. Not aesthetic enough. How can anyone romanticize this?
If you have low tolerance like me, you'd probably faint before you'd feel like a sexy, movie actress with Xanax addiction.
On the bright side, you get sleep. Or probably more than that.
4. It's 4 am. This is the perfect time to get to your knees like a good little slut. You plead to the gods and promise them that you won't piss at your father's tombstone anymore. That you would stop eating your hair. Or that you would stop taking pills out of habit; there's no one to force you anymore.
5. At this point, I just give up trying. The sun is rising soon and mushrooms shall grow out of my body. Literally.
Come fucking get me, Satan. I'm probably more qualified at your job.
YOU ARE READING
In the Dark
HorrorA little girl is trapped in a doll. A woman sells her sanity. A man works on his necromaniac art. This is a collection of dark flash fiction and short stories, frisking on an area between madness and imagination. Content warning: murder, rape, se...
