This too shall pass
There is a point just before sleep takes me, when I feel that icy pinprick falling sensation. Like there is an abyss of despair underneath my bed, yawning and roiling waiting for me to slip in, but I fortunately always slip into sleep instead. But just for that second, the medication fails, and I feel it, like the sensation of being sliced open under aesthetic. You feel little but the little you feel has such great import, you know that there is no going back.