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13

Story 13: Believe It Or Not - INSOMNIA

It's the early hours of the morning, and I hadn't slept a wink, nor do I even remember the night passing by.

It began slowly at first, I would be able to take a small nap, but then suddenly be jolted awake in the middle of the night because of a nightmare, and so on.

This repeated for a good day or two until I was unable to sleep at all, fearing the nightmares that will consume me during my death practice, aka sleep.

For some reason the nightmares always included someone trying to kill me, or me being close to death. I have no clue what that means, perhaps someone is trying to kill my light, but for what purpose, and what good will that do?

The first dream started off very horrifying and graphic, a terrifying dream it was, I woke up shaking and unable to move. A man with wide eyes, no eyelids, just wide burning eyes and a Cheshire grin, had my friends tied up and was torturing them one by one. He would begin by slowly cutting off their finger nails and fingers one by one, and then scooping out their eyeballs, or cutting a grin into them. I was forced to watch, for I had to save them, otherwise what kind of friend would I be if I had not even tried? But, oh, I don't want to go into too much detail about that, for it was horrifying indeed.

The most traumatizing dreams, however, were always the ones where I was being abused. It would always end up with me being surrounded by a group of people, usually my loved ones or those who I cared deeply about, all of them beating me with no mercy, almost to the point of death. I would be lying on the floor, bloody and bruised, screaming and crying something along the lines of:

"Why are you doing this?"

"Please stop!"

"I love you!"

It was not their blows that hurt me, but rather their cold, hatred-filled eyes that seemed to deem me as a waste of space, and nothing more. I was nothing but a punching bag to them, and they didn't seem to care who lied behind those tear filled eyes.

The worst part would always be, if I had a dream, waking up. I would awake, lost, hurt, and confused, not knowing of what my dreams meant or of what was to come next. Emotionless, or way too emotional I was, but that never seemed to stop the scarring in my heart that the dreams bought me, so every time the sun made the hills it's grave, I would fight to stay awake until it rose to see another day.

Poem 13: Sleep

Thank you,
Sleep,
Or as some like to call you,
Death with benefits,
For you have traumatized me in many ways.
Sometimes I wonder,
If I did not sleep,
Would I have lost my mind anyways?
Oh, but what does that matter now,
That the sun has made the hills it's grave?
Would I even live to see another day?