The Insomniac II

Note: Yes, it is fictitious.

When you have insomnia, you're never really asleep... and you're never really awake

I pass out sometimes and wake up in strange places with no idea how I got there. Sometimes there are people around who tell me what we've been doing. Sometimes I'm alone.

I share my flat with two other girls. We don't see much of each other, but the weeks when they aren't home are the worst. I wake up to find my windows open and the ashtray full. I wake up to find the water refilled, the T.V. on. I wake up in the hall clutching a bottle of orange juice, in my bed dressed in clothes I don't remember changing into. There are always cigarettes around, though I don't remember buying them. The whole world goes crazy until they come back when it all goes back to the once-in-a-while "Where the fuck am I?" morning. I can deal with those.

The only worrying part is the effect this is having on my memory. I don't remember walking to work, don't remember completing reports, don't remember attending official parties. I lose count of days and forget what date it is. I seem to be working on automatic. That isn't to say I don't fuck up every once in a while, but I manage. I suppose I could leave it like this for a little while, but then again, it isn't like I have a choice.

I am about to go to bed now; there's no water on my table and I am going to close the windows. I'm out of cigarettes and there's a dull ache at the center of my head. I think I can see the hours go by...
or maybe it's all just a bad dream.