I am utterly, intrinsically, so exhausted. I have not slept in 48 hours. I am beginning to feel delusional.
I’ve been laying awake at night with no true purpose of being awake. I am tired, yes. I am sleepy, yet the sleep never comes. As soon as my body begins to relax and find peace in my sheets, the voices start again. It is nearly impossible to not go mad.
How do I explain this to anyone? Meanwhile, my boyfriend of 3 years sleeps soundly next to my body, snoring away happily. After 2 hours of trying to decide whether or not I should wake him up, I gently prodded his shoulder. “Babe, babe…I can’t sleep…babe?” Gruntled noise slip out as he rolls over.
I feel alone in this.
It isn’t his fault, after all. I’m happy that he doesn’t understand. I am so incredibly happy that he has never had to experience the terrifying voices, the shape-shifting faces sprawling behind the eyelids, the chasm of depleting depression. For this, I thank the higher power.
Still, I am led back to my above question, how do I explain this to someone so…normal?
I feel guilty for the previous episodes like this one. I feel guilty that he has to see me lie in bed at 5 pm, unable to sleep and still unable to produce and move. Perhaps he thinks I’m over-reacting, putting on a show. I wish it were that easy!
I wasn’t expecting this valley of melancholia to last so long. I wonder when I will be able to rejoice in my mania..
I do wish we could chat longer, but I’m having an old friend for dinner
I kept right on going on,
a sort of human statement,
lugging myself as if
I were a sawed-off body
in the trunk, the steamer trunk.
This became perjury of the soul.
It became an outright lie
and even though I dressed the body
it was still naked, still killed.
It was caught
in the first place at birth,
like a fish.
But I play it, dressed it up,
dressed it up like somebody’s doll.” -Anne Sexton