I keep forgetting to breathe. It’s not that I don’t know how, it’s just that my brain has given up on the exercise altogether. Now I have to make sure that I breathe enough every few seconds so I don’t pass out in my bed.
I’m sweating. My hands are caked in perspiration as I write this, and my pencil slips from my hand. I feel so warm and agitated, so acned by my heated brain.
My chest is burning up with too much caffeine, and my eyes have no trace of sleep in them. I feel so heavy but so light, both at the same time. I’m flying, and yet, I’m drowning.
Even the slightest sounds disturb me. I can’t stand the buzz of the mosquito in my ear, but I don’t want to kill it. It’s just hanging out, what’s the harm in that? It’s bit me a few times though, so I’m going to hold a grudge against him. Or her.
I don’t get the mosquito’s deal. Why can’t they be normal? Do you really have to suck blood? Stop being so metal, Jesus.
On the bright side, at least they’re not as big as we are. We’d be screwed if they were.
Then there’s the silence. Even silence has a sound, though not everyone has heard it. It’s like a white noise, and it echoes off the walls. There’s no such thing as pin drop silence. There’s always something whispering at your ears.
I hate all these sounds. They’re so fucking annoying. You’d think that after midnight the rubble would die down and you’d have the black sky to yourself, but no. Even silence is a bitch, because then, your thoughts start talking. Sometimes screaming.
I think the only noise I don’t mind after midnight is the dogs in the streets. I like to think they’re just as troubled as me, but the fact that they are dogs is enough reason to let them shout in the streets. I’d probably be thrown in an asylum if I was found doing the same. Weird, right? I mean, I personally feel that humans have more to scream about than dogs. We have social constructs and duties forced upon us, with no choice but to live up to. We live longer than them, we are basically bred to steal bread from weaker humans, teach new humans to do the same, and then, we just die. The end. Everything, all that negativity, all that positivity; it all leads to death. I’m pretty damn sure that’s reason enough for letting me scream, thank you very much.
I wish I had the money to go on a roller coaster so I had an excuse to scream without people thinking I’m insane, but I think I’ll waste most of that time praying one of the screws fall out and I plummet to a nice ol’ death.
As of now, I’m counting the minutes to sunrise. I dread it. I hate when the night ends, and people start acting like they’re okay. They build all these cages around them, and only let what is considered normal slip through the bars. Some of them sleep like that too. I can’t imagine going to bed that way, as a stranger to my own self. I’d rather die than not spend at least a few hours with myself. We all need it, to hold on to at least a little bit of sanity.
One thing is for sure. I might not live long, or I might live longer than everyone I know. But however long (or short) I live, I want to live it good. I’m tired of letting myself down, of running myself into the ground and slapping on a smile to fool people. I don’t want to be a fake.
I cannot start that dream of mine today, unfortunately. That is why I am writing this. Sadly, some stages of life require a little bit of fraud. That is why, I’m buried under my misery tonight.
I’m writing this so that one day, when the time is ripe, and if the clock strikes midnight for life, I’ll come back and read this, and live this dream of mine. I don’t know when.
I just hope, hope, hope.