Some days of the month are worse than other days and nights longer. Long enough to be spent sitting like ghostly silhouettes while the moonlight casts a pale white shadow through the latticed windows. Nights when thoughts are like vague dreams, and dreams like hurried thoughts of a sleepless neurotic mind. Sleep is but an absence of action, and yet in itself is an act. All your actions in the last decade are put up for introspection, and none seems to be worth it. Every minor embarrassment you faced sits in front of you, the whole scene flashing in a perfect rendition of the imaginative form. You cannot avoid it. And go through every one of it like someone being convicted by a war crime tribunal. A criminal judging a crime.
The light flickers outside your window and you wonder if something is wrong with the moon. But something in your heart tells you it never was the moon. Everything seems so stupidly still. Enclosed within the dark room are three hearts. Two silent and one restless. Its amazing what can happen within the distance of 3 – 4 yards. How can they sleep so peacefully? Where do they find that exhaustion? If only you could derive a method to switch off completely, things would be so easy. Easy. That is what humans are always looking for. An easy way out. And nothing seems easier than death.
Yet death seems to be the last thing we meet. Why can’t I die a thousand times in this life? Maybe I do. Maybe this is death. Sitting sleepless, wanting to scream in a dark room where light tiptoes so as not to disturb the residents. The urge to scream is unbelievably loud. Your heart screams a thousand times and you hear it drown your thoughts. For a moment that seems comforting, and then they come back again. Haunting, and more violent than before. Scraping at the crust of your consciousness with long, sharp fingernails. All you can do is wait. Patiently, like a zombie. Too tired to fight. Too tired to scream or do anything. Sitting there on the bedside like a broken statue. The soul flowing like steam thin vapour out if your pores.
Nothing stirs.Except the morning light. Tiptoeing through the shadows of the night. But by now you are too tired to even react. All you can do is sigh, and go back to sleep.