I just want to lay here. There is a lot on my mind right now. Here it is; here I am, over thinking as much as possible while pretending to sleep. I can’t stop. Actually, I truly do want to rest. I desperately want to rest, but fighting it only makes it worse. Fighting it only makes it grow, only makes it louder, and only makes it more torturous. I am going to give in now. Yes, I'll take tortuous insomnia for 200 Alex.
If someone were to walk-in in the midst of these thoughts and see me staring at the ceiling I would defensively and sternly say, “Please leave me to my routine, please.”
I am very protective of this strenuous habit/insanity I have come to accept/love.
I would tell the intruder, “This has nothing to do with you.” Well it does sometimes, but telling them that it doesn’t ensures their disengagement and absence. I think to myself, “Now that you are not involved, I can have my way with my own world, which is exactly what I require as a final catalyst into my ever so clever and in depth thoughts; as a final catalyst into the beginning of a long a restless night."
I lay here pondering and agonizing, wishing sleep would come instead and the most random thought swims by, an epiphany really (as I have many during the night), and that is it takes way too long for certain things to sink in for me. I mean some people just get hit in the head one time and they're good, lesson learned. I get hit in the head over and over again like I should be headless at this point. I wonder why that is. One could say stubborn and another could say compassionate – willing to get hit again; this is for most cases, however, maybe not all. I start searching my soul for some sort of answer to this, venturing within because I figure, I must have the answers to my own insidious problems, I mean after all I create them.
Then I immediately switch to another random thought as to make the incoherence of these restless nights even more complete. I, at this point, keep going in and out of logic and feeling good about my life, feeling wise and hopeful, then an abrupt surge and utter downward spiral occurs. An awful sinking feeling overwhelms me as I lay there. My face drops significantly into the pillow, my eyes lower in somber and defeat, broken pride, and tears rush down my face. No less than a second later, my mind reasons with me again and I go right back to wise and good, right back to the mind racing; the torture.
Everything happens very fast during this weird and time consuming routine. Emotions intensely fluctuate, revelations storm down, bleak flashes of the future I want float in and out. Regrets, mistakes, and explanations I never got to give or were given. Incredibly seamless transitioning from one incoherent thought to the next, nonetheless, but very fast. Nothing ever making sense, completely thought out, or finished. Or, some nights, everything is completely thought out and I am stuck on one memory, one moment that I work down to the bone night after night that I just do not want to let go.
Humans. Migraines.
Like the exclusive thought of losing someone. You end up daydreaming a lot. So many thoughts start to fill your time and mind after you lose someone. A good laugh several times a day sustains you. Until, well, it doesn’t. I am only my best self and in my best mind when I have silence and plenty of time to think about what I am feeding my mind. I need space, time, and silence. More often than not this is at night.
Going from feeling to feeling just allowing myself to go where the natural response takes me, just allowing my thoughts to go where they naturally want to go. It is very dangerous yet therapeutic. I no longer fight the sensation of wanting to heavily restrict what my mind wants to do too quickly. Maybe I eventually do end up fighting it but not right off the bat. In the beginning, without explanation or hesitation I want to smoothly flow to the next feeling or thought, I guess spontaneity really is the key to discovering yourself.
Letting go of your ego and the structure that keeps your body tense and mind off course is a slow and hard process. Not to mention I don’t want to do it, but I just do what something other than myself tells me to do next sometimes, and for some reason that always makes me finally go to sleep – “In the final analysis, all things are far more mental than physical.”