Insomnia and all of its Friends

(Not exactly fiction, but oh well.)

 

The darkness mocks me. It is meant to lull to sleep, to bring on the peaceful nonexistence, but for me it deprives me of said oblivion, taunting me.
I toss and turn, sheets falling off onto the floor or writhing their way up to my neck, threatening to strangle me, and I wish I could accept their offer.
I force myself to stop, breathing slowly. I close my eyes, being brought once again into the swirling recesses of my vision.
A faint sound grows into a voice, but one without a source aside from my mind. It murmurs secrets to me and I am unable to close myself off from my own mind. I listen while wishing it would end. The whispers from it slowly fade, replaced instead by a growing unease and inability to understand what is going on. I no longer know who I am, where I am, what is happening. Restless, I squirm back and forth under the torture of my mind. My heart rate increases in sync with my delirium’s increasing might.
Then it stops. Suddenly, without any seeming cause, it all ends. I recover, stand up, walk around for a minute.
Some part of me wonders what happened, if it was, somehow, a dream. Another part of me knows the unfortunate truth that it wasn’t.
I return to my disheveled bed, and the arms of darkness and slumber now welcome me.
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