I wouldn't say I never sleep
I always sleep.
I sleep away the day, and whatever else may be staring me in the face.
I lay there, lacking the spirit to pull myself up, to look at my phone or to talk to the ones I know.
I sleep.
I close my eyes, and I'm whisked away to where I am more. To where I am less, or to where I am simply me.
It's the inability to close my eyes that ruins it. Simultaneously a frost breathes over me, and chaos claims my heart.
My breathing staggers, it shallows, and I feel as though my throat has closed up on me.
I cannot breath.
I cannot move.
I cannot speak.
I think only of the possibility that this is another one.
One that grabs me so hard, the one that shakes me and freezes me for so long that nothing will function.
The one where the monster who holds me in my own cage of fear and stress,
takes what it wants.
It's cold, it's terrifying, and it's what many others feel.
So I stay awake; my eyes open and my mind racing.
I write, I draw, I let myself be consumed by my work and the music gracing my ears, to be drowned by the things i choose to drown me.
All in hopes of casting out my demons, forever changing and forever hiding, out onto the page, and out of me.
Sometimes I don't get the chance to do this.
Sometimes there is no time, and there is no excuse for the time wasted on drowning in simple consumable pleasures.
Sometimes I have things I must do.
Sometimes I'm awake everytime I'm supposed to be asleep.
Sometimes I sleep when I'm supposed to be awake.
Sometimes I can't go to places because something inside me keeps me rooted.
Sometimes I'm too trapped to hear your words.
Sometimes I lie.
Sometimes I ignore you.
Sometimes I forget I can care about you.
Nobody's perfect.
