Sleep. It’s such a normal occurrence for the human body and mind. The darkness and stillness of the world around us keeps us sane when our body relaxes. The state of unconsciousness that keeps us alive while we regenerate our energy and prepares us for the day ahead. Sometimes the unconsciousness is pleasant but sometimes unconsciousness can be a ruthless, painful killer.
But when every normal waking moment starts to becomes a dark, twisted, nightmare-like reality it becomes harder for one to distinguish what’s real and what isn't. Say you’re watching a game of basketball and suddenly things get darker and the people around you and the basketball players start to become distorted and the basketball has slowly turned into a severed human head, that’s when you know something isn't right.
I've kept all of my ‘day-mares’ to myself. Whenever I drift off in class I blame it on lack of sleep or a late night out, which isn't always a lie. I do get lack of sleep most nights because of the nightmares. But my life wasn't always like this. At one point I was normal like everyone else and then out of nowhere I lost my grip on reality and began a journey where I didn't know what was real and what isn't.
It’s becoming harder and I don’t know how much longer I can stand the constant torture going on in my head. The nightmares are starting to feel more like reality and reality is starting to feel like a nightmare and even though in the back of my mind I know that the nightmares aren't really there, the rest of my mind is trying to convince me otherwise.
The beginning of my story is like any other. I had a good life, a kind family, and the best friends anyone could ask for, and then every good thing that was part of my life came to a stop. Everything turned dark, and all I had worked for and everything good I had gained in my life so far disappeared along with my sanity. I became distant from my family and friends and I kept myself out of most social situations so I didn't risk anyone’s safety and so no one would find out what had begun to happen to me.
Whenever someone asked me if I was ok I’d always say I was fine, it’s just the generic answer that people my age say these days to avoid talking about problems. Even though I should probably tell my parents at least what’s going on, I can’t bring myself to do it. They probably wouldn't believe me anyway. I always eat my meals in silence, just listening to the stories that my parents, my sister and my brother share while making sure I avoid any kind of chance to share what’s going on with me by finishing off my food quickly and excusing myself from the table.
I hate being so distant from my family after we’d been so close with each other for so long. I know they've noticed a change in my behavior but they know me well enough that they don’t try and force me to tell them what’s going on and the constant gratitude that I feel towards them is unimaginable. They seem to understand me better than I know myself and that’s another thing that’s starting to worry me.
My friends are almost the same they all seem to understand me just as well, maybe even better than anyone and becoming distant to them has been hard, and they’re like a second family to me, having to lie to them hurts just as much as it does to lie to my direct family. They care about me enough to know when I’m hurting or when I’m stressed or scared but the fact that they seem relaxed when I lie to them scares me even more.
This path that I’m on is a dark one and if I continue to go along it as close to the edge as I am right now, reality might as well become a dream. I might as well check myself into a metal hospital and get them to wrap me up in a strait jacket. If my mind becomes more of an enemy than it already is, I might as well lock myself away forever until my death, unless the insanity does it for me.
I don’t want to become someone that people fear. I don’t want to become the girl who went crazy. I don’t want to turn into someone I’m not. I don’t want to become something my mind wants me to be. I don’t want to become a prisoner of my own mind. I don’t want any of it, ever.
But maybe, it’s already happened.