Handwritten Insomnia

"Sometimes...I would write letters, but never send them. It started off as unfinished thoughts written to my friends and family but then began to trickle down to more mundane recipients, such as my late loved ones and enemies. Eventually I began writing to my depression, and this was where I learned the most about myself.

This past year, I began writing to my insomnia. The letters would be bitter; I would accuse insomnia of being a thief. It would steal my nights away from me and merge them with my days. It took away my logic and, instead, force fed me delusions used to keep my mind awake. You were a grim truth, that I could not foresee coming.

Some letters would be sorrowful; I would cry because insomnia was a game. It was a game, that I did not want to play, of trying to desperately distract myself with anything nearby as an attempt to hide from my depression. Depression has always felt like my landlord, waiting to evict me. Even at midnight Depression would show up, with me frantically folding my laundry in mania, calling out to the door 'Just one minute..!'. I have always been terrified to open the door and face my depression head on, because of this, you became my biggest distraction.

But now, since stopping writing those letters, I have realized something. Despite being addressed to insomnia...they were written for you. Perhaps, this is my way of sending them."

So this is for you.

Sincerely, Pheonix....the girl that survived.