The bed is soft, the sheets are new, the comforter feels like heaven. Unfortunately, the man trying to sleep in it cannot enjoy its comfort. He tosses and turns. He flips the pillow. He turns on a fan hoping the air and sound will calm him. He gets up and reads, but his mind is too unattached from reality enough to understand what he is reading. He sits in his thoughts. They get so intense it’s hard to bear. He says a prayer for God to grant him serenity. The words spoken are from the heart, but there is no relief. Before he knows it, the dreadful tears overtake him.
Memories flood in, fighting for their turn to wreak havoc on his soul. He tries to block out what he can. If only he had that one vice to produce the ability to forget. That vice is not an option. So the man is stuck in a never-ending depressive state. He eventually cries himself to sleep. Which has now become the norm for his nights lately. All seems ok and calm. Then an hour or two, if he is lucky, will pass. He suddenly awakens, covered from head to toe with sweat. Small glimpses of his dream haunt him till only small parts are memorable. He gets up so tired and takes a shower. This will by morning be one of multiple because this whole process continues several times throughout the night. Then at a point, of there is no point, he gets up. He starts his day with a lonely cup of coffee. He turns the radio on because he has it in his head that ordinary people do that in the morning. He tries many insignificant things to trick his mind into thinking he is ok and normal. The man then must go through his day, sometimes minute by minute, tip-toeing on his emotions and feelings. He is tired all day. His body is beginning to believe this is how it is supposed to function. He doesn’t think about food unless it is brought up to him. So if the man is never reminded of the idea to eat, he could go the entire day without food and have no ill feelings. This process continues daily. The man gets more tired as the days go on. Sleep is not his friend.



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