Mind Reconstructive

Sleepless

The night is long and lonesome.

I lay awake wondering how on earth I'm going to deal with this. With life. There are times when I feel that I could just go on being happy, and that nothing will ever bring me down, and there are times when I feel that I will not even be even to get up the next morning.

If I were dead then I wouldn't have to.

You would think these thoughts morbid, but I lost my fear of them long ago. I glance at the clock 2:23. I heave a sigh of frustration. It's just going to be one of those nights. I drag myself out of bed and over to my window. It's a tall window, facing outwards towards the city. I remove the screen that cages me in day and sit on the edge, just thinking.

I just can't sleep.

When I lived in my third foster home, I managed to make a friend. Just one, though. I tried my best not to be too attached to people; I knew I would just have to move on, but this girl, She was so captivating. She was unlike anyone else I had ever met, and I had met quite a few different people. She wore a lot of red. That was the first thing I noticed about her. She complimented it with black, and sometimes white, and her hair was dyed a very bright blue. She constantly had coffee with her, be it at school, at work, or on a random bus going nowhere. She liked to go nowhere. She would always board a taxi, a bus, or a train when she had the money , just to see how far away she could get. I couldn't blame her. It was a very small town we were in. She was just so free. I was envious. She didn't seem to give a care about anything, and nothing troubled her.

If I was feeling the way I do now late at night, like it is now, I would call her. I never told her what was going on, really, I just told her I couldn't sleep. She seemed to always be awake. She would walk to the house where I was located, no matter the time, and we would just walk. Sometimes we would sit in the park, or in a taxi, or a coffee shop, and sometimes we just wandered around. She didn't ask me what was wrong, but she always seemed to know what I needed.

Of course, when I was relocated, we lost touch. neither of us were much for phone calls, and I didn't have a cell phone, so I couldn't text.

So now I must brave these nights on my own.

I gaze down at the bright city lights. City's don't need sleep. Maybe I don't either. The stars are out, but It's hard to see them with the orange glare of the street lamps stare you in the face. I lean against the window frame, letting my legs dangle outside, allowing the cool night air to hit them, giving me goosebumps. Breeze is peaceful. The thoughts in my mind seem useless to me. I am constantly fighting everything. Society, anxiety, anger, bitterness, the people around me, even myself. Is there even a point in fighting anymore? I'm so tired.

But I must not think of those things. If you want to be a hero, you have to be willing to fight. I'm strong, after all. I think everyone has to be, to a certain degree. Sometimes you have to be strong just to keep yourself breathing. Short on breath, heavy on time. The lyrics of Sanctuary seem to fit my situation exactly. But the thing is, life doesn't get better with the end of a song. The music has to be constant. for me it does anyways. Endings hurt. It's better to not even start them.

Cut yourself off.

Isolation isn't always bad.

In my opinion that is. It's quite peaceful. I can think. I can breathe. I am not constantly questioning everything I do. it's quite nice.

But the peace never lasts. I know this because even as I think these thoughts, my mind is plunged to darker places. sinking deep in the fear of tomorrow. The fear of the absence of tomorrow. If the world ended tonight, would it matter?

And it would. Of course it would matter. Because Selah would never grow up, Andrea would never have another math lesson with her tutor, Allison wouldn't have the chance to watch Winnie the Pooh, and Georgia and Sam would never have another date night. Yes, it would matter if the world ended tomorrow. Because, as much as everyone hates to admit it, everything matters. Every single thing.

I begin to realize that clarity only comes once in a while, for me. So I take the time to think on it. Because after all, time is all we have.

But I am still afraid. And I still cannot sleep. I run my fingers through my hair in an exhausted frustration. Perhaps I have developed insomnia. If I did then I'd at least have a better excuse for the bags that adorn the skin beneath my eyes.

I just wish there was someone here. I hate to admit that thought, but it's true. Being alone is only so good for so long. And then It's just lonesome. As previously stated. I return the screen to it's proper place on the window and return to my proper place in my bed, wishing my mind would return to its proper place in my head. But they won't, so I do the only thing I can think of. I rummage through my drawer and retrieve a darkly covered book. Plain, and worn with use. But inside this book holds the very inside of my mind. Every troubling thought, Every memory, horrifying or lovely, jotted down in this journal, given to me nearly three years ago.

And so I write. I write just as I think. In one long, run-on sentence that stretches on like the road I must travel. The sentence and road seem so unfair, racing along without punctuation or road signs, running on without a pause to let me catch my breath.

My eyes will be blood shot in the morning, I know. Georgia might be worried, but she'll be working for most of tomorrow, so I believe I am safe. Slightly safe, but never free.

Oh, how I hate my mind.

One must carry on, even when one wants to die. Soldiers that sit in tanks for days must wish they could escape or die. The thoughts that sit in my mind for years must feel the same. Why must my mind be so alive? Never sleeping, always tormenting. Is this my fault? That's what I hear. That's what we all hear. It's easy to blame yourself because then at least your not accusing anyone else. At least there's no way to hurt someone, when it's all your fault anyways. I am afraid. Would life be better if I weren't here? Don't think. Please don't think.

I put down my pen. Nothing seems to help tonight. I am stuck in waves of nothingness, and yet seas of every feeling imaginable.

Nothing makes sense. Nothing seems to be getting better.

And I fear nothing ever will.

A/N: So, another short chapter. sorry guys :(. Hopefully it will get better soon. OH and also, If any of you ever think the way my character is thinking, please please talk to me, or someone you trust. I hate for anyone to ever feel this way. So please, feel free to message me! Anyways, I hope this wasn't too boring for you, Sorry if it was. Thanks so much for reading!

~Kaelyn