I am not on good terms with night time.

Daytime and I are buds: all day I have things to take up my time, distract me from everything that is unhealthy to dwell upon. Night time is different though, it calls out for thinking. The worst is the moment when you get home, everyone is asleep or isolated from you in their respective rooms. You try to read until you cant keep your eyes open any longer to forget the people you miss, and the moments you wish you could bring back, or the emptiness you try so hard to fill.

Sometimes it is easy. You eyelids grow weary and you escape the ever-dreaded insomnia. But other times you are not so lucky, other times are like tonight.

All your problems eat at you from the inside out. Perpetuate attacks of fear and misery simultaneously nauseate you and paralyze your motor skills. Breathing becomes a chore that does not seem worth the effort, and tears do not seem to even begin to encapsulate your feelings.



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