Sleeping Awake
Sleep is the only place where you can truly be alone. There is no one else when you sleep. It is you, in your head, enjoying the peace. Sleeping is meant to be peaceful and feel great, but you aren't in control of your sleep. It's all your mind's decision, you're just along for the ride.
So, these past few weeks. Well, sleep really has been weird. I haven't slept right. I dreamed every night. The word dream might be incorrect in that sentence; it might be better suited as nightmare. The problem with this is that a nightmare has a connotation. There are dark scary demons that are out to kill you and destroy you from the inside out. My nightmares don't go that way. My nightmares are exactly like my real life. It's an image, a portrait of things I don't want to see. Sleep, the one salvation from constantly being reminded of the terrible things I've done, is now lost. And thus, I can't sleep. It may look like sleeping, but I don't feel rested. Eight hours of just staring and reacting to things that only continue to exist to show myself the err of my ways.
This has actually changed in the past few nights, and I can only hope that this becomes permanent. The cause of the change was a meeting. I met a person, talked to said person, and felt a part of myself that I rarely feel. There are few times when I feel I have to hide myself from society, but recently I've felt it and it has to stop. I was able to fully be me and experience things that make me truly happy. This person opened up a world, a community, of people just like me, and well, I'm trying to delve in as much as I can. I haven't felt this part of me truly alive in a long time, and well, I think it's time for him back.
Lastly, as I reread what I wrote, I actually realize I wrote it for an audience. That bothers me. I purposely don't want anyone to read this so I can write about me to me. The fact that I held back words and names means I'm not doing this right. Try harder next time, Steven.
So, these past few weeks. Well, sleep really has been weird. I haven't slept right. I dreamed every night. The word dream might be incorrect in that sentence; it might be better suited as nightmare. The problem with this is that a nightmare has a connotation. There are dark scary demons that are out to kill you and destroy you from the inside out. My nightmares don't go that way. My nightmares are exactly like my real life. It's an image, a portrait of things I don't want to see. Sleep, the one salvation from constantly being reminded of the terrible things I've done, is now lost. And thus, I can't sleep. It may look like sleeping, but I don't feel rested. Eight hours of just staring and reacting to things that only continue to exist to show myself the err of my ways.
This has actually changed in the past few nights, and I can only hope that this becomes permanent. The cause of the change was a meeting. I met a person, talked to said person, and felt a part of myself that I rarely feel. There are few times when I feel I have to hide myself from society, but recently I've felt it and it has to stop. I was able to fully be me and experience things that make me truly happy. This person opened up a world, a community, of people just like me, and well, I'm trying to delve in as much as I can. I haven't felt this part of me truly alive in a long time, and well, I think it's time for him back.
Lastly, as I reread what I wrote, I actually realize I wrote it for an audience. That bothers me. I purposely don't want anyone to read this so I can write about me to me. The fact that I held back words and names means I'm not doing this right. Try harder next time, Steven.