I wrote a story on a whim of how hard sleeping has been lately. This is how it turned out, give it a read:
The room was filled with soft melodies of music she’d never heard, encased with the sound of the keyboard and occasional creaks within the old house she’d always lived in. Her thoughts roamed aimlessly, never ceasing, exhausting her so much that sleep never could satisfy the voices inside her head. They woke her up often, urging her heart to feel what her mind would ponder. The endless thoughts were rarely giddy and exciting, but rather harrowing and anxiety ridden.
Sometimes, like clockwork, 3 am would appear and she’d awake and greet the moon with a tired sigh or a pleading cry. She’d always been content with the night sky – the beautiful stars and the seemingly infinite darkness, but she detested the thoughts that woke her nightly, so much so that she could no longer appreciate the beauty in the dark. In a sleepy state she could never reel her thoughts back in. They traveled, and traveled, but always beckoned her to follow along with them. And she would do just that – trying to catch them, to bring them back to bed for just a wink more of sleep.
First they’d remind her of what was. They’d take her on a journey across the blissful beaches – the memories that were pure joy. Once she’d settle in they’d drag her across the rocky crevices of painful memories, of what is now. They’d point ahead to the narrow path with the dark storm approaching and remind her what’s to come. She’d reach for them, trying desperately to bring them home again – to stuff them away for just a moment of quiet. But they’d continue that way each and every night until the last star is faded by the azure of the morning.
The peeping sun and the dog at the foot of her bed remind her it is morning, it is time to rise. She curses the nights ahead of her, knowing this will continue until her tired eyes shut for good. She wonders when that day will be, if she will finally get some peace when it does.