It seems that all the hours I should be sleeping, are spent wide awake. Even now, I should be fast asleep. Spiraling into a beautiful, whimsical dreamland with not the slightest inclination of the world around me. However, here I sit…a darkened room, my only company; a fan buzzing in the background. I wish I could say that I’m awake because my reality is finally greater than my dreams, but what a lie that would be. I’m awake because my depression has chosen to awaken me now. It’s the realist I’ve felt this late at night, the pain surges underneath my skin and tears threaten my dry cheeks as I type. 

Nights like these I wish my happy Instagram and ecstatic Facebook pages were so real that I could inject them into to this darkened body. But they are just pictures, to satisfy ones longing for hearts. As silly as it sounds I wish someone would come double tap my heart back to life. 

This post has no real meaning, but I’m not mad about it. I just need to write, I need to bleed out on to this keyboard. I need to sort out my thoughts, I need to understand the darkness that tries to over take me. It starts off so small, so innocent. A simple comment made about me will throw a whole detailed machine into action. If it wasn’t so dark, I would go as far to say it was beautiful how it works, really. Then the flood gates will open, and darkness will fill every corner of my mind. Sometimes, I swear I can feel it in my toes. And how I wish that that was the end of it. 

But here I am, at 2 am. Surging from the pain in my veins. It’s not a pain you can touch, but sometimes I wish it was really physical pain so I could justify the crying. And then all at once it consumes you, and it’s as if everything you see is through grey lenses. You’re so ugly, your hair is so drab – so you lob it off. You’re so fat, the food doesn’t look good and I doubt it’ll taste good. Days become your best sleep because at night you have to sit next to yourself and relive the pain of the day over and over. 

I’m sitting on my bed, with my covers pulled over me. And I hate this post, I hate it because it’s all so true. Even as the funny one, the strong one, the cool one. I am devastated because I am losing grips with myself. That’s what being strong does to you, it really does kill you in the end. Maybe not physically, but man might as well. I have enough ambition to run a company on sheer energy but I am handicapped by the ball and chain of depression. I have a desire to be great, to do great, to reach great but as high as my dreams may take me I’m always hooked and reeled back in. 

Sometimes while I eat dinner I imagine myself throwing every plate against the wall, clearing the counters off in rage, and falling to the floor in exhaustion. I actually imagine that a lot, because that is what my mind is doing to me everyday and I want someone to see it! I set up my goals, my dreams, my hopes all meticulously on my counter and the darkness sweeps over, and self loathe grabs the plates, pity throws them, pain clears the counter, and depression exhausts me down to the floor. 

I often entertain the thought of not existing. No, not suicide. But just not being h-e-r-e. Being lost in some world that is all white, and bright enough to burn the darkness out of me. One where I can be me without reserve, one in which I can learn to be human. Not just strong, but human. One where I get to be a kid, so I can finally close that open chapter that has loomed over me for so long. One where I can love my body, incomparably and choose  to care for it. Sadly, this world does not exist. 

I can not imagine it. I can not touch it. I can not breathe it in, and yet it’s all I yearn for…Serene peace, true love, acceptance, and realness. 

But I’m snapped back to this bed, with that fan muttering in the background. With the lights off, just the ticking of the keyboard. For now the tears have retreated, the pain is bearable, the darkness has lightened enough for me to see. And for a split moment I have gotten a step ahead of my depression. 

And one day I will beat him, I will beat the life out of him and it will be well worth this hell I have to go through to find myself..


2 thoughts on “Sleepless

  1. wow … feels like you went right into my soul with a shovel and started digging so you could write about it… that’s how I feel at all times since I was a teenager, of course I deal with mine in a worse brutal way that I wish would’ve never started. your writing is amazing girl and you are 100% amazing too. You’ll beat him one day and look back and smile. Love you girl.


  2. Girl, isn’t it crazy how we can mask our own feelings with pictures and posts.. Thank you for being real and vulnerable. It’s humbling. I love you and I know we live far away but I am always here on the other end of a phone or computer to listen or talk to. Keep your chin up and keep believing that you WILL beat this!


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