Confessions of a Struggling Sleeper

Warning: This post contains strong language:

I’m so scared.

So fucking scared.

I close my eyes and I see my future. My fragmented future. Lost friends. Broken hearts. Unrealized dreams.

I want to run. Run as far as I can. I can’t face this. I can’t.

I don’t want to face it.

I’m scared of being happy. I’m afraid that everything will me taken from me, in one fell swoop. With no warning. Nothing. Just gone. Forever. I can’t face that again.

Not to another.

I can’t face losing one of my friends. Any of them. I can’t bear to see their faces in pain. In utter agony. I won’t. I don’t want to. Please, I can’t fucking do this again.

I don’t want to sleep. I picture her face when I sleep. Her cold, sad face. Everything just taken away in an instant. What the fuck for?

I don’t want to live. It’s too painful. Love is too painful. It leads to loss, which is even more painful. Loss leads to denial, regret, mourning. I don’t want to feel those things. Not anymore. I don’t want to.

I wish someone was awake now. Just hearing someone’s voice would put me to ease. Especially those I care about the most. The people I love.

I have three weeks left here. And then? What happens? I’m gone again? I miss everything that happens in between? What if anything must happen to anyone here? What the fuck happens then?

What if I go back and fail all my courses? What happens to me then? I might as well be dead then. My dreams would be. I couldn’t bear to face all this for real. I don’t want to think about it but I can’t help it. I can’t do anything.

I just want to be happy. But when you’re happy you allow vulnerability which leads to sadness. Eternal sadness. So I stay angry to stay strong. To save face. To ward off anything that might break me down. Anything that might kill my spirit. That might upset me for good. But I’m sick of it. I want to be vulnerable. I want someone to wrap their arms around me and never let go. I need to feel loved. I need to feel wanted. I want to be a part of something bigger than myself.

That’s why I want to be a writer. A great writer. A writer who takes all these emotions and spreads it across a page turning it into a memory, A glorious memory. A memory that will last forever. I want to be famous. Rich. I want to buy my mother a nice house, give my father the opportunity to do what he desires after fending for the family for so long. My sisters. My friends. I want to take them around the world. Visit all the cities we spoke of before. Do all the things we’ve dreamt of doing. Make memories. Laughs. Smiles. Make everyone happy. Completely happy. I just want that. That’s all I ever wanted. To be happy. If you’re happy, you’re purpose is fulfilled. You’ve lived a life full of it, making others happy as well. That’s the true goal of life. To just fucking enjoy it.

I need to do this. For Ajaya. It’s what she would have wanted. For Gabrielle. For Shane. For Tasha. For Bevan. For Dean. For Warrick. For Shane. For Matthew. For Dax. For Shinead. For everyone who has ever doubted me. For everyone who has ever known me. For those who cannot do it. For those who wish they could. For those everywhere. For my family. For my loved ones. For myself.