Anxiety

Tales of an insomniac.

It was only in my ghostly state, in the dark of four am, that I pondered myself. Delusional from sleep depravation, and my heart shattered from past events, only then did my indifference melt away into an unreasonable terror that shot through me like plague that sweeps through the masses. I was stricken, blind with this terror, that with my insomniatic state brought about the true faces of my inner demons. The face of the loved and loathed, of the live and dead, my mind was in shambles. Teeth clenched, hands shaking, stomach flip floping through a green sea of nausea, threatening to sweep my legs out from under me. I willed myself, begged myself, to stay conscious. If only for a few moments longer, if only for the sun to rise. For if I fell into slumber while the darkness still reined, I would slip unto the black abyss and straight into Hell. As my body pleaded for sleep, I could feel the furious flames licking at my skin, the voices of the damned echoing in my mind for me to join them in the molten flows of the river Styx. The vice in my chest tightened around my hammering heart, and my breath threatened to cease. I was losing my mind. All grips of reality surely fell away from my fading logic, and the tears of the forgotten played a sickly tune within the confines of my mind, crying out their injustices. The bile rose in my throat, my sinuses burned from the acidic flavor. I was going to vomit. Vomit or surely die. And with a jerk from deep within my belly and wretch heard heaven high, I spilled my vile essence upon my sheets, and upon the carpet, and upon my chest, my hands, the concoction dribbling down my chin. I took in a deep breath, forgetting that the sweet, rotting scent of my own hours old ingestion would surely fill my nostrils. With that one breath, another great heave, then another, then another still. The lack of breath and the harsh contractions of my intrails, left me aching, my heart pounded, leaving me panting, the sheer forced exertion, leaving me tremoring, and the utter agony of it all, leaving me whimpering. As is customary, my eyes spilled over with the tears of strain, and for one blissful moment, I felt nothing. Absolutely nothing. All was still, my senses gone, my thoughts finite. The putrid scent slowly began to creep back into my consciousness once again, breaking off my one blissful moment of catotonia. Yet this time, thankfully, I had the presence of mind to hold my breath as I fleed the room, into the lavatory. I released my breath, and with gusto, began to cleanse my sweaty face and clammy palms, dousing myself in the ice cold streams of tap. I proceeded to cleanse my mouth like a dazed zombie, only faintly registering the flavor of mint in which later I knew I would relish. A change of clothing and a rinse of my body, I walked back to my room, my senses still dulled. With distant thoughts, I cleared the mess and put the linnens to wash. I sprayed the room with a soothing perfume so that then stench would fade like the dark outside. I waited, numb and saited, for the sun to rise once more. Daring not to turn out the light until the reassuring, Earl grey glowed through my window pane. As the hue and temperature of that colour rose, I felt safe. My body relaxed, unclenched itself from it's death grip on consciousness. I felt it prudent to whimper. The icey, grey blue filled the window, offering the last bit of cool before the harsh sun and all it's heat rose. Relishing in this last relief, I stood with tired, shaky legs, and turned off the light, letting the cold blue light up the room. All was still now. I was free, finally. I succumed to the quiet slumber I so longed for. In peace, I finally laid. The battle was over for tonight.