Insomnia tales.

I haven't slept before 5 am for the past three months. Every night I say it will be the last and every day I wake up after 3 pm. Sometimes I think it can't be fixed anymore. It's a loop, I'll just come back again. I've tried, I've tried time and time again. And suddenly it's too late. Suddenly I'm tucked into bed and all I can think of is how I can't fall asleep, how I have so much to do and how I'd rather be doing that than lying in the same dark spot for hours until it's 5 again.

I go to sleep knowing I'll wake up feeling like shit, I want to throw up each and every night. When the sun rises, I ask it to forgive me. I ask it to let me go without sleep. Sometimes I think it's just because I was too irresponsible to fix it some time ago, that it must be normal. That perhaps my body is just not tired.

But others, I know why. I know that, in the earliest moments of paranoia, I am not fucked up. I am not too far gone, When the world sleeps, I can look at myself in the mirror and trace every feature as redeemable. I can touch myself in the moments that I should not be conscious. I can dream that it's not too late, that I can be fixed, that I'm not in a loop, and that trying is worth it. I am not only loved but worthy of it. And isn't that ironic? At 5 am, I can love myself, and my mind is too tired to ask "why?".

In penumbra, I wish I were safe, and I wish I could rest in all bits of me at any hour. In a silent night, I am an inhabitable place. And an entire day seems like a small sacrifice.