Uncaring Night (Written March 27, 2013)
The nightly hours wander by,
Unseen except by few,
So happy and mad they could almost cry,
At a loss of what to do.
‘Cause sleep, so elusive, flies away
As always, just out of reach,
And there they are and there must stay
As it drains them like a leech.
How unfair of the night to move on,
Unaware of how its prisoners’ been,
And yet the hours wander on
Unaware of who may count them.
I wrote this a long time ago. I just found this almost completed post as a draft, but I didn’t publish it. I have no idea why I didn’t post it when I wrote it. Possibly because I posted another post that day. *shrug* Either way.
I present yet another poem about insomnia! Actually, that isn’t true. This poem isn’t about the sleeper, it is about the night. It is about the night that moves on with or without its prisoners asleep. It is so silly, but that thought is one that comes to mind all the time. This thought that the night won’t let you go, that you have to be there through the whole night, but the night doesn’t care. The night just keeps going, whether you sleep or not. Strangely, that thought is the one that helped me most when I first started having problems with insomnia. It also made things infinitely worse. On one hand: the night goes on even if I don’t sleep, so I should spend it doing something fun like reading or playing video games. On the other hand: the night goes on even if I don’t sleep, so I’m never going to sleep again, what the heck is wrong with me?! I recall one point where I actually blamed the night for me not being able to sleep. I would hide under my bed because I thought that, if the night couldn’t see me, then the night couldn’t keep me awake. Yeah, totally loony(haha! see what I did there?), I know. I was eight, sue me. It helped that I had a way over active imagination. What a stupid term! The only time your imagination is ‘overactive’ is when you can tell the difference between reality and fantasy. Which is what my problem was. I had nightmares. And I could never tell when I was awake or asleep, because the nightmares were so real. So, when I did fall asleep, it wasn’t very restful. And when I couldn’t fall asleep I would have the nightmares anyway, I just would have them while I was awake. Granted, the waking nightmares weren’t as bad as the sleeping ones. The sleeping ones were horrific. I remember when I was..I dunno, four? And I had this nightmare where I was at my birthday party and I had the biggest, prettiest pink, three layer cake. And it was so happy. And then the birthday cake turned into a monster cake and it ate me. And this was the worst part: the party kept going. How sick is that? I was four. They all sort of go like that though. Something horrible happens (I was once chased by a giant cockroach. It was so real I could feel it nipping at my heels. *shiver*), then I die, and then the dream keeps going. And I wonder why I have trouble sleeping. =P
You know, I was thinking about it, and I write an awful lot about insomnia. I figure I probably write most about what is on my mind most. If I look at what I most frequently tag my posts with I write most about:
Which makes sense, I suppose. I think most about life, the sleep I should be getting and don’t, the adventure I wish I had, and school which is most of half of everything in my life for the past twelve years. But really, I write an awful lot about insomnia!
THANK YOU FOR READING, PLEASE TELL ME YOUR THOUGHTS! DID YOU LIKE EVERYTHING THAT IN READING YOU GOT?
ALSO! PLEASE LOOK LEFT AND SEE ALL THE FUN WAYS TO FOLLOW ME!
Oh yeah! I just was told by somebody on my Short Stories blog that my Anglo-Saxon poem read like Beowulf. C= That was seriously the nicest thing anybody has ever said about something I have written. I love Beowulf! Now I get why my friend loves when I say stuff like that about her writing. It is awesome! C= C= C=