The sky was beautiful tonight. For a long time now, this last year especially, I realised have been surviving. I wouldn't call it living, mostly just getting through the days as much as I can without harming myself or fixating on suicide. Every now and then I have a glimpse of a life, something that resembles true happiness but, tragically, it is fleeting. In my efforts to survive I find distraction to be a key player; TV, internet, always something to keep me occupied, never left with my own thoughts except at night when I’m trying to sleep.
Tonight, I came in to my bedroom to lay and watch the sunset. No TV. No phone. Just me, the view, and my thoughts. I began to wonder if the reason my insomnia gets so bad is because I am never truly alone with myself except at night. If the reason I am deafened by my inner voice asking a million questions, inventing a million scenarios, and replaying or dredging up things I’ve forgotten for self preservation reasons is because I hardly ever allow myself to speak to me anymore. I never allow my conscience to process or question. Never thinking too deeply because the conclusions always seems to end in pain. I’m silencing myself from the inside, oppressing my inner monologue and expecting no consequences. In my effort to survive I’m neglecting a crucial part of myself, and if this is the case then am I not in fact perpetuating the cycle of needing to survive because of this neglect? Maybe my insomnia is my mind rising up and rebelling against my intellectual oppression.
I know I’m doing this for my own protection, my mind has ways of disassociating and distancing itself so as not to feel the full pain of the situations that cause me to break. My mind protects me, and yet, if this theory is true, it also traps me in an endless cycle of which I can barely escape.