Disarm

I can't handle not sleeping anymore. My body is sore. And the lack of true REM isn't doing me any favours. A familir edible is chased down by 100mg of trazodone. I got three hours sleep last night. I need to do something. Everything about me is starting to ache now. My eyelids begin to grow heavy as snowflakes begin to fall at a faster and faster rate. I don't understand why anyone wouldn't like winter. The coolness. Sleep is a welcomed relief for me. The older I get, the more I look forward to falling away from the waking world. When I sleep for the most part it's just a blackness. Complete nothingness. I shut off. Most of the time these days I don't want to wake up. I just wasnt to stay in that void state. That is the kind of emptiness that I need every one in a while. People don't seem to realise that there is more than one type of emptiness. Curling up under the freshly washed duvet, I close my eyes. The smooth voice of Ted Bundy plays from my laptop. True Crime, Serial Killers, Mysterious Disappearences, Aliens, Cryptozoology documentaries are the things I listen to in order to fall asleep at night. After a decade of doing this, maybe longer, probably longer, it's the only way that I can fall asleep. I focus on the tone of his voice, not so much the words he's saying as my breathing slows. My body is completely relaxed and my thoughts begin to slow. "The Hawkins girl's head was severed and taken up the road about twenty-five to fifty yards and buried in a location about ten yards west of the road, on a rocky hillside..." I see myself hanging from a tree. The rope around my neck has left a red chafing mark around it. I step back and watch what I do. It's late December. It's almost Christmas. There is a light dusting of snow all over thr ground. Clouds of smoke puff out of chimneys of the small mark house that decorates the end of one of the barren fields. Windows glow with a happiness that is both insulting and saddening. There is a sort of haze that hangs over everything. I don't know what is happening. I've looked in on myself before, but never like this. Am I asleep? Am I hallucinating? I've waited for so long. The hills that lay behind the orchard of apple trees behind the farm house have turned a deep grey purple, singnalling the death of yet another season. I climb up the tree one mid afternoon. I kept climbing until I reached a thick and sturdy branch towards the top that looked sturdy. I triple knot the rope and test it before fasting the other end into a noose to hang aroun my neck. The sun glows a deep bloody orange behind a grey sky. A brisk wind whips up the dusting of snow on the ground. I take a cold breath of the cool air and slide off the branch. The noose tightens around my neck, snapping it instantly. I inhale deeply as the crack echos through the mist, rattling through my spine. I can't move. I'm still here, yet I'm looking at my lifeless form. I've always felt seperated from my body, but this is something else. The sun sinks below the hills, allowing an inky black colour to begin to saturate the sky. I'm waiting for the blackness to fill the sky and hide my from view. Stars explode in the sky peeking out between the pale clouds that have now made themselves scares. I need to do something. Time isn't moving. I need to see if this is real. At the moment I'm currently wondering if I should start redefining my understanding of the world real. The blackness opens up to an autumn day. The ground is covered with golds, reds, greens, pale yellows and oranges. Rocks just from the Earth, moss covering half their surfaces. Decaying trees loom over me as I look around, taking in my surroundings. I have no idea where I am. I have no idea what is happening to me. I'm in a thin long sleeved shirt and pyjamma pants. I'm barefoot. The cold is finally starting to get to me. I'm almost about to cry. Turning to my left hoping to find a path out of the woods, I find myself locking eyes with a man dressed in dark clothing. He holds the sharp blade up to his lips and masks a sushing sound. I can't move; fear has me rooted in the spot. The blood is draining out of me. After what feels like an eternity, alouth it's only been a few moments, I look down at the ground to see what he's crouching over. It's a young girl. Her body is mutilated, covered in gashes. Strips of cloth partially cover her body. She only has on one shoe. He straightens up and looks toward me. He tarts toward me. I'm finally able to take in a deep breath. I scream and I run. I need to get out of here. My thoughts are racings faster than my heart. The leaves are wet and slippery. Everything looks the same. It feels like I'm going around and around in circles. Nothing about this feels real. Fear tightens my veins. I look back to see if he was still cashing after me and didn't see a small rock. I caught my foot on the sharp edge, cutting myself open and sending myself slamming into the ground. I clutch my foot, desperaly praying for the pain to stop and that he won't find me. I plead with myself to stay silent. I can feel the adrenaline and fear welling up in me. He finds me laying on my side, blood still dribbling from the wound on my foot. My hands are caked with blood and the side of me that has been lying against the ground is numb from the cold. You turn me over. I close my eyes. I don't want his face to be the last thing that I see. Apparently, he wants the opposite of me. He begins to slash at me too, tearing through my t-shirt. The blade is white hot against my flesh. I put up my arms to protect myself somewhat, but he just keeps coming at me. Finally it is all too much for me, I begin to scream. He gashes through my throat and begins to shake mw with anger. Blood bubbles from the deep wound. He throws me on the ground and begins to wipe his hands on my bottoms. He wipes the blade off on me too and carefully closes it. I lay there watching as he walks away, the mist begining to fall. My soul is moving in slow motion. I'm being expelled out of my body. There is nothing I can do to stop it. What is happening to me? Am I watching the possible outcomes of my life play out before my eyes or is all of this inside my head? I feel the heat leaving my body, at first it was nice, but now I'm actually cold. My heart slows and stops beating. I'm floating above the machine that I've been inhabiting for the longest time. A new kind of warmth surrounds me. It's a pulsating. I never want the feeling to be taken away from me. Cracking open one eye I see warm light filling the room. What could possibly be waiting for me now? I've been witness to so many different endings and variations; I'm not sure what dimension I'm in now, if it's all been a dream. I guess there is the possibility that I've just been sitting watching this all unfold behind closed eyes, driving myself farther into a depressive, existential maddness. I sit up and rub my eyes. I pull back the curtains. The sky is filled with red, gold and orange. Peeking through the limbs of the trees, the light catches the suncatcher my friend made for me, creating mini rainbow patterns against the walls. Sitting up, I rub my aching head. I don't know what is going on with me. Perhaps it's my desire to escape from current situations that leave me cycling through these dark escapades. Secrets and frustrations bind creating a toxic sludge inside of me. Sleep is my true escape. Sure being high is nice, but there are times when it just makes the thoughts race faster. My thoughts become even more erratic and rapidly cycling. I can dig that once in a while, but sometimes it happens when I don't want it to. With sleep, I forget everything.