Insomnia.

Flash fiction. 393 words regarding the nature of my relationship with Insomnia.

Insomnia.

 

I am awake again, listening to this poor soul talk. Thanking me for keeping him company… thanking me for understanding. No one particularly likes him… personally, I don’t mind him, as long as he’s fair to me.

What do we talk about? Mostly about how we love this time of the night… I thank him for what he does to my muse. At this point in the night, he and I are at our creative peaks. All of my best work has been inspired and made possible by my friend Insomnia.

 

He often talks about how he wishes he could have dreams. I try to explain to him what they’re like, but I don’t think he ever completely understands. It’s like trying to explain color to someone who has been blind from birth.

I ask him what he does when I’m not with him. He says he visits many other people when I’m asleep… people all over the world.

 

The sparkle in his gray eyes collapses, as he explains that they just ingore him. They associate with pushy medicine that oftentimes kick him out, or beat him up. Most of the time, the people he visits lie in bed facing the wall, and don’t even bother acknowledging him. Some even curse at him, or say terrible things about him.

The young father in Denmark with two kids and a sickly wife. The wealthy Asian man in California who counts his money and sings in Chinese. The little girl in Texas who just can’t sleep and always seems to be grumpy about something.

They despise him for being the only thing he can be… They just don’t know.

 

The circles under his eyes grow darker as his expression falls… his black hair waves slightly with the breeze of my fan. I reach out and touch his arm… he fades sometimes, when he gets like this. Sad and unwanted. Fades into the morning like the vast black sky. If I hold his hand, he stays for a while longer.

 

He claims he feels bad for keeping me up, and yet, I see the joy on his face when I decide to stay awake. He means no harm, really. He is only a lost, lonely child without a dream in the world.

I am happy to be a friend to him.

Thank goodess for you…

Author's Note

Let me know if there are any grammatical errors so that I can fix.