Insomnia

A Name That Haunts Me

I uh, decided to write this at 3am

Please be aware that there are themes of depression, so if that is a sensitive topic for you, please do not read this

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Tik.

Tok.

Tik.

Tok.

The echos of the wall mounted clock seemed to have filled the dark empty room. The gentle tiks were occasionally accompanied by the distant snores of neighbors who slumber in their beds. The slow breeze that encouraged surrounded trees to tap softly on the glimmering windows would also join in the orchestra of the night. Usually this type of gentle white noise would lull anyone to sleep. Anyone except Pickle.

The TV screen illuminated his figure on the bed, tired, slouched with his eyes seemingly dazed as he mindlessly progressed in his game. He would never show it, but Pickle often had trouble sleeping. Many would chalk up his drowsiness to all nighters of video games, which to be fair were true assumptions. However, there was a much deeper reason to why Pickle tended to avoid sleep.

Because whenever he closed his eyes.

She was there.

Taco...

Pickle felt his eyes grow misty as he quickly shook off the feeling of dread. Taco was his closest friend in season 1 of Inanimate Insanity. She was so kind, and funny and so animated, all of her energy was shared with Pickle. She meant the world to him. But she didn't think the same.

Pickle groaned as his avatar had fell into an easy trap, causing a big "Game Over" to be plastered on his screen. Usually Pickle would pass this level easily but, the letters from Taco kept fogging his mind. With tired, drained eyes, Pickle shut off his game, tossing the controller aside and flopping onto his bed, blankly staring a hole in the ceiling above him. Before he would be able to ignore all the bad feelings inside him because he had Knife as a roommate who would join his thinly veiled attempts at bottling up feelings by playing video games together. Though Knife wasn't here anymore, he was competing in a new season of Inanimate Insanity.

Pickle heaved a heavy sigh as he scrolled through his phone and noticed the time was 3 in the morning. He sighed as he glanced at the window. Such a gentle moonlight glow was trying to creep it's way into his room, but for some reason it made him feel even lonelier.

"She's probably seeing the same moon too..."

Pickle hated that he thought like that. He hated that he still missed her. What was there to even miss? Taco who screamed "Sour Cream" and dove off cliffs with him isn't coming back. Taco who he made an alliance with isn't going to want to talk to him. The Taco he knew and loved never existed. Why should he miss and be hurt by someone who never existed?

Pickle felt the pit of shame and self hatred start to build up. There was no way he was going to have a breakdown at all. He can't. He couldn't. Pickle did everything he could to keep those feelings from coming out in front of everyone because the last thing he wanted was for anyone to show him pity or show a sign of weakness. They rely on him for laughs and being fun, not to be a downer and a sour guy.

Maybe something to eat will take my mind off of her...

Pickle slowly got up, and shuffled to the door, opening it as quietly as he could. After tip toeing down the stairs and nearly bumping into the wall, he made it into the kitchen. Sure he probably couldn't cook something but there has to be something easy he could just snack on to avoid the never ending self hatred and regret. If an apple a day can keep the doctor away, why not food helping with negative emotions?

"Come on... There has to be something in here..."

Pickle grumbled as he checked the shelves, but a lot of them were food that might take a while to cook, or things he just didn't want to eat at all. With every second that seemed to go by, Pickle felt himself getting more and more agitated as he scratched his head, trying to find something to fill his stomach besides hatred. Maybe the fridge will hold better luck.  Pickle opened the fridge and scanned the shelves until his eyes lingered at something neatly wrapped in the corner of the fridge.

Tacos.

Pickle slammed the fridge door closed, banged his head on the fridge, covered his face in his hand and muffled a scream. He was feeling like he was at his wits end. Why does every little thing need to remind him of her?

He never wants to see her.

But he missed her.

He wanted to disappear.

But he wants to be able to hug her again.

He wants to cry.

But he wants to laugh with her again.

He hated her.

But he loved her.

Pickle felt tears escaping through his fingers as he tried his best to stifle his sobs as he sunk down to his knees. Everything hurt and he couldn't stop it. He just wanted it to all disappear, for him to disappear. How pathetic was it to miss someone who hurt you so badly so many years ago? Pickle hugged his knees close as he tried to bite back more tears. He felt so alone.

"Pickle? Is that you?"