Four A.M.

Four in the morning and I’m awake for no earthly reason at all.I have been working on
a term paper but I’m done with it now,and my eyes have grown too heavy to work anyway.

My eyes are watering,I am stifling yawns as I type but I,for some inexplicable reason,insist on staying awake.

Truth is that I,despite all my fancy words,am terrified of the dark,and I am terrified of my dreams.Not just the nightmares but also the good ones.Especially the good ones, they make life seem like a nightmare all the more.

I always awake exhausted and in mortal dread of the waking hours,but once here,I get addicted to consciousness.To the glow of the laptop screen,to the clicking of my fingernails as I type,to the vague twittering of birds outside,to the prosaic colours and piercing banality of the room I call my own,to the ache in my shoulders from hours of hunching over.

It is as if reality is like one of those wounds you can’t stop picking at,one of those welts inside your mouth you keep reaching out for with your tongue.It is unbearable,and you can’t get enough.


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