Insomnia is aching eyelids. Night after night, trying to force myself into unconsciousness. No matter how hard I try, sleep is just out of reach. I long for sleep, rest, oblivion, but it’s beyond my control. Insomnia is like a waking nightmare; I close my eyes but they are quickly prised open by an unknown force that never leaves. I feel the fingertips caress my delicate skin, gently soothing, comforting, and I start to relax. Maybe sleep is finally in my grasp. Just as I’m about to succumb to the darkness, the soft strokes change, and my eyelids are wrenched open. The fingers shred the delicate skin around my eyes until there’s nothing left; my eyes can never close.
Insomnia is begging. I beg the doctor for drugs, something, anything, that will put me to sleep. I long for darkness; for dreams; for nightmares.
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