an invisible individual
Hello Insomnia, I thought I should check in with you. I believe it has been a while since we last spoke. In fact, I don’t think that we even make it a point to speak anymore. It seems as though you are always around but we try to avoid confrontation. Who can blame us?
I just wanted to thank you. Thank you for the memories. Thanks for taking on such a large role in my life. Thank you for filling my mind with self-deprecating thoughts so very late into the night. I also enjoy how strange and ugly people can look when you leave me in this haze. They never failed to let us down.
On so many levels you have laid your hands and planted your seeds. The anger, hate, discontent, and embitterment are always there, but they are never accessible. I can never reach far enough to use or remove them. You hid them well, and I figured it would be polite of me to mention the job you are doing on me. I still hang onto my dreams and aspirations, but it seems as though you have convinced me that I am powerless and incapable of reaching them. I don’t even try anymore.
I have to give it you, really. You have even found a way into the lives of those around me. You have seen through them in ways I can’t imagine. You have caused me to hurt so many people around that it’s alarming. I hope that is what you intended, because you accomplished it with a malevolent precision.
Sometimes I like to think that there are things I hide from you, things no one knows or will ever know. Things that only I am safe to know. I, however, recognize now that you have somehow invaded and dissected those precious things. You know my sins and my vices. You know me too well, Insomnia.
Lastly, I would like to ask how you are enjoying this. How are you enjoying my emotions? Do my dreams please you? How about my memory and mood? I wonder if you are taking my pride and wearing it around for all of your friends to see. I would if I were you. Have you used my creativity and imagination to your benefit lately? Because I haven’t been able to; I figured that you had borrowed it. You have even managed to rob me of my physical health as of late. I would like that back sometime, if you don’t mind.
So insomnia my old friend, where are you taking us? I would really like to know. Do you know something that I don’t? I’m beginning to lose hope in you. All I know is that when all is said and done, I hope that you enjoyed the pieces and shards of my life that you drained from my aching bones and plucked from my hardened skin. I didn’t. The process was brutal and too much at times. Watching my physical and mental health slowly and painfully dwindle, I’m sure that you must have gotten a few kicks out of that. We’ll see who gets the last laugh, Insomnia.
Your Friend,
Kyle
P.S.- I’ll check in with you in a few weeks.
I just wanted to thank you. Thank you for the memories. Thanks for taking on such a large role in my life. Thank you for filling my mind with self-deprecating thoughts so very late into the night. I also enjoy how strange and ugly people can look when you leave me in this haze. They never failed to let us down.
On so many levels you have laid your hands and planted your seeds. The anger, hate, discontent, and embitterment are always there, but they are never accessible. I can never reach far enough to use or remove them. You hid them well, and I figured it would be polite of me to mention the job you are doing on me. I still hang onto my dreams and aspirations, but it seems as though you have convinced me that I am powerless and incapable of reaching them. I don’t even try anymore.
I have to give it you, really. You have even found a way into the lives of those around me. You have seen through them in ways I can’t imagine. You have caused me to hurt so many people around that it’s alarming. I hope that is what you intended, because you accomplished it with a malevolent precision.
Sometimes I like to think that there are things I hide from you, things no one knows or will ever know. Things that only I am safe to know. I, however, recognize now that you have somehow invaded and dissected those precious things. You know my sins and my vices. You know me too well, Insomnia.
Lastly, I would like to ask how you are enjoying this. How are you enjoying my emotions? Do my dreams please you? How about my memory and mood? I wonder if you are taking my pride and wearing it around for all of your friends to see. I would if I were you. Have you used my creativity and imagination to your benefit lately? Because I haven’t been able to; I figured that you had borrowed it. You have even managed to rob me of my physical health as of late. I would like that back sometime, if you don’t mind.
So insomnia my old friend, where are you taking us? I would really like to know. Do you know something that I don’t? I’m beginning to lose hope in you. All I know is that when all is said and done, I hope that you enjoyed the pieces and shards of my life that you drained from my aching bones and plucked from my hardened skin. I didn’t. The process was brutal and too much at times. Watching my physical and mental health slowly and painfully dwindle, I’m sure that you must have gotten a few kicks out of that. We’ll see who gets the last laugh, Insomnia.
Your Friend,
Kyle
P.S.- I’ll check in with you in a few weeks.