insomnia

night i

Ashlund tossed and turned on her small mattress, the sheets wrapped around her legs as they kicked about. She had already flipped her pillow over multiple times, so her head was always laying on the cool side. The window in her room was open, letting the warm wind sweep in and ruffle the papers sitting on her desk. The sounds of the city echoed in her head.

These weren't even half the reasons she couldn't fall asleep.

There was also the slight dull of music bouncing off her neighbors walls. The shouting from the couple downstairs. The whirling of the air conditioning. The never ending cycle of thoughts balled up in her mind, making her sweat.

One word summed up this disposition; insomnia.

And maybe anxiety.

Scratch that; it was both.

Insomnia is the inability to sleep. It takes forever to fall into slumber, and when you go unconscious it's hard to stay in there. It's the thing that curses up to three million people in the united states, not excluding Ashlund.

Anxiety is usually pictured as that annoying boyfriend who won't stop calling your number, but instead of filling you with annoyance and the need to kill, it makes you on edge, butterflies consistently in your stomach and your breath shallow as you see your doom in two thousand different ways.

Her eyelids were heavy as she just laid there, staring at the ceiling, but sleep still wouldn't come. There was nothing interesting on the wall except for a dead beetle, but she needed a focus point to concentrate on.

Another hour passed by, and she was no closer to sleep than she was earlier. She didn't want to think about her life, for it would just cause her stress.

Ashlund untangled her legs from her gray sheets, wiggling her toes as her feet hit the cold floor. Her mind was alert as she quickly stumbled around her room to find the light switch, even though her muscles and eyes felt like mush.

She finally hit the switch, and her room was illuminated. Her four-poster bed was pushed against the far wall, leaving room for whatever activities she planned to do that day. There was a desk on the other wall, holding a bunch of trinkets and papers she may never need again, but refused to give up. Next to the desk was her dresser, storing her clothes away from the rest of the world. Polaroid pictures were stuck onto the wall above it, displaying pictures of people or landscapes. Lanterns hung from the wall, turning on with the lights and casting a warm glow. A carpet was hastily thrown over the wooden floor, hiding a bunch of scratches made from the previous owners.

Despite its imperfections, it was hers, and she wouldn't have it any other way.

Ashlund spun around the room, looking for something specific. When it finally caught her eyes, she practically sprinted over, grabbed it, and ran out the bedroom door, turning the lights off behind her.

This lead to another episode of her stumbling around her house looking for the lights, but this time just for the kitchen.

The cheap apartment Ashlund was able to afford off her small salary was small, with only a kitchen, one bathroom and bedroom, and a very small living room that could only fit a box tv and a love seat. She decorated as much as she could to make it feel spacious and homey. She succeeded, but it was still cramped.

When Ashlund finally found the switch, the lights were only on for a minute as she grabbed shoes, a jacket, her phone, wallet, and keys before running out of the apartment, not caring that she was still sporting bed-head and her pajama set. She safely put the object she found in her bedroom in the pocket of her coat, knowing that it wouldn't get lost there.