Insomnia.

3:33 AM

Insomnia.

My brain likes to race when my body is at rest.

It’s no secret what’s keeping me up. Thoughts of you float around in my subconscious, which is already clouded by questions unanswered, thoughts unaddressed, musings unkempt.

My mind is a hodgepodge of everything, and nothingness.

You pervade through it all.

I wish you were a drug that would induce sleep, but instead you keep me tossing and turning. Wondering.

I’m tired.

I can hear the sound of the clock ticking.

3:45 AM

I wish things were easy; I wish everything made sense.

Then maybe my mind would stop racing.

I have a habit of labeling, organizing, solving.

But the more I try to compartmentalize my brain, the deeper I drift into deliberation.

Suppose? Maybe? What if?

What if?

But you’re not here to answer me.

And even when you are, I say nothing.

Perhaps I’m afraid, or perhaps I don’t really know what this is anymore.

I wish you’d explain it.

You play games instead.

And so I keep wandering from sleep towards that place called insomnia.

3:56 AM

I close my eyes.

But it’s not about sight.

Why is it that, in this darkness, all I see is you?