Hanging by a Thread

All these years I have never had a problem falling asleep. Except when I was caffeinated of course. With all the guilt, the hatred, the pain I have collected within myself over these years, although they made me dysfunctional in a number of ways, they never barred me from falling asleep for sleep was my only escape from all these needless whispers, these unclear, needless words floating in my head. People envied this ability of mine, close your eyes and almost a minute later, venture to a place where theories of time and space were no longer relevant. But guess people envied it a little bit too much for now, I’ve lost it. The one temporary exit I had, I’ve lost.

And then the nightmares start. While the brain’s wide awake, the nightmares start. A nightmare where I’m hanging by a thread, a thread that’ll snap and I’ll stab. In the silence of the night, these whispers become loud and clear as they take the shape of a heart that struggles to beat, of nails that struggle to not hurt the body they are a part of, of fists that struggle to not hit the beats out of the heart.

And every night, I lose this war and maybe because I lose it, at some point, I gradually drift to sleep and finally, go back to the place where I belong.