Untitled 5

A short I found while searching for older writings I've done.

There was an emptiness that rang about the room in silence, in a soft demanding from the shadows. Questions from angry dreams and an unacknowledged reality ready to break the soft daydream I’d be having. No matter how loud their shouts got, they were never loud enough: no matter how many pills I’d take, my tolerance was in a much better condition. I could sift side to side and close my eyes to the cold breeze that failure brought me but it felt no better than when I would be asleep. Sometimes the doctor would question whether what I told her was the truth or not, as if I had become some sort out of my mind: chasing faeries instead of butterflies. Whether I told her the truth or not didn’t matter after a while; night after night I stayed up looking at the space between the heater and window as if a rabbit hole would appear and take me away.