"I hate you so fucking much." She seethes as she walks towards me.
"Oh really?" I respond, arms folded across my chest.
"Yes really." She shoots back.
By this point there was barely any space between us, I could see all her features from her big bro...
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Warning: This chapter contains themes of insomnia.
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0:00 AM.
I should be in my bed, fast asleep. Yet here I am in the kitchen with my back resting against the cool surface of the island whilst the kettle boils. My life was going to shit and my insomnia never fails to remind me of that fact. It doesn't happen frequently which I'm grateful for yet it always hits when life gets stressful. Once the night gets silent it creeps up on me like a villain, altering my brain chemistry. It pulls the negative thoughts I have pushed away through affirmations and bible verses to the forefront of my mind, amplifying their voices to the max. My mind consistently reminds me of my shortcomings by replaying taunting memories of me slipping on the ice or failing to attempt a jump.
I could count sheep and focus on my breathing or even watch a four-hour documentary on wildlife for hours on end yet my mind continues to race, each thought worse than the last. Once I grow tired of the psychological warfare, I throw off my covers, sneak into the kitchen silently and make tea.
The kettle lets out a whistle, pulling me out of the vengeful tide that is my mind. I grab a small, pink mug from the cupboard and the tea from another. I place the teabag into the mug then drown it in hot water watching as the steam rises from the cup, mirroring the thoughts that rise through my mind. Except they don't dissipate, they steam up, creating a mental fog. I wait for it to cool whilst searching for a snack. I find a packet of Oreos, place it on the table with the tea, and sit in the dimly lit silence. I force my mind to hyper-fixate on the warmth of tea and the sweetness of the cookies, desperately trying to distract it from the negative thoughts that tug at it aggressively.
For most people, a dark quiet night was a dream come true yet for me it was a fucking nightmare. The darkness never scared me it was always the silence that got to me, It takes me back to the days of my childhood when I would lie in bed hopelessly as my thoughts attacked me, constantly reminding me 'I wasn't good enough' and 'I would never achieve anything great.' The worst thing was never being able to turn it off and just having to endure it until sleep decided to grant its mercy to me.
Even now as an adult, self-doubt slithers into my mind every now and then, hissing out words of discouragement but instead of allowing it to paralyze me, I shake it off as best as I can, proving once again it is all in my head and I am perfectly capable of doing anything I put my mind to.
A sigh escapes my lips as my mind harshly reminds me of why I couldn't sleep.
Skating.
I still remember my first day of figure skating. I was nine years old and it had been a recommendation from my therapist. Back then I was a mess of a child, carrying way too much baggage for someone my age. I remember the way the ice felt against my skates and how I could barely hold myself up. I also remember the feeling of the cool air nipping at my cheeks, making my eyes water and my fingers feeling numb to the bone. I was so sure I was going to hate it and I would never return yet here I am at twenty-two years old actively pursuing a career in figure skating.
