Darkness Descending

I lie here in the thick, black night. The sheets skritch as I shift my legs, seeking respite and repose. I hear each sound clearer than ever. The steady iron drip of water from the tap; the rustling of blankets as my toes stretch towards some unseen element; the smacking sound of the dog as she licks her lips in her sleep - sleep will not come tonight.

I see the vague shapes of monsters, threatening as they hover, waiting for me to fall. They wait, hoping I will uncover even a digit, giving them cause to move more swiftly towards my demise.

All I ever was and will be is a lie. A dream that I sustained, which gave me solidity and validity and made me real. But alas, I am made of the nothingness that comes from the earth's bowels. The monsters are waiting, and soon I will let them feed.

I was told life has pathways and we choose our destiny. Lie. I was promised security and safety. Another lie. I was led to believe that people are just, fair, and good. The biggest lie. Nobody cares that I weep while I sleep, suffer silently in loneliness and fear, or that my world is crashing to an untimely death.

The night is comforting. The deep grey shadows hide not only the beasts but my fears, sins, and future. How is it a sin to want a better life, or any life for that matter, where one is free from abuse? Taunts, jeers, teasing - the harrowing task of pulling myself from the tangled sheets to face my adversaries daily. It's almost too much.

Tonight, I lie awake, knowing that pieces of my life are being stripped from me, just as one might peel an unsightly vegetable. A good analogy, since I am frozen with fear, anxiety, and the knowledge of all that is lost. I shed my tarnished skin to allow the monsters to feed. They may as well since my cause seems hopeless. Dire straits leave one very few options. And being immobilized is worse than death.

And so I lie here, seeking solace from the shadows. Dreading the daylight and the endless letters of rejection in my inbox. How can I not be qualified to even answer a phone? I wonder how I managed an advanced degree and what purpose it served since, with it, I am useless and obsolete. I call those monsters now to feed upon what is left of my heart, of my soul. I have sinned somewhere and must be punished. I suppose poverty and unhappiness will suit as well as any other attire. But what to tell my offspring? I only hope they make better choices, for I have failed. I am a failure and the monsters can have my soul.

I have descended to the darkest place, and returning seems futile. How much more can I lie to myself to present a positive face to the world when my own world has fallen to bits?

Sleep is no longer salvation but a punishment if it ever comes. How long can one survive without sleep? The dark will rise and take me soon. And I am just another fatality with no legacy.