Vents & Poems From A Narcoleptic High Schooler-Among Other Things

High school. The year where everything came back and the former, well known version of myself died...this is me now.
*Mixtures of poems, prose, possibly letters, & short stories*

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4. Poem #3: It's That Time

April 10th, 2013

It's that time again,
As much as I regret to admit,
That reoccurring time,
Where I can't escape reality for a simple night.

Hey, did you know?
It's really boring,
Not to mention irritating,
That even though you have plans,
You can't prepare for them.

Sleep is supposed to be natural,
Not to mention required.
Yet, why is it that I cannot have it?
What makes me stand out?
Everybody's human
Nobody's perfect,
But why can't I function like everyone else?

Music would naturally help,
But not anymore,
Pills,
Tea,
Herbs,
Stimulation,
Meditation,
All are ineffective.

I dread my bedtime,
The clock ticks,
Hours pass,
Before I know it,
It's almost time for school.

Just five minutes,
Until that alarm rings,
My eyes go completely shut,
Unable to open them,
Until I am woken,
By the sounds of reality,
Slowly coming back to me.

Reluctantly,
I open my eyes,
And look in the mirror.
As always,
I still have those dark,
Empty bags.
My eyes are dilated,
As If I am not there.
My mind is blank,
As though I'm in comatose.

Amazingly, I am able to move,
As though I'm set to automatic,
But like a robot,
My feelings,
And my unique traits,
Are simply "off."

I manage to get through the day,
Heck, no one suspects a thing.
This thing they see,
Oh no, that's not me.
They see a shell,
A shell of an insomniac,
Who can't escape it's own demons,
Who's faint, cracked voice,
Attempts to call for help,
For a cure,
And most of all,
For a resurrection...

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