I couldn’t sleep-
not because the night was loud,
but because it listened.
Each time I closed my eyes,
something answered.
A dream-
no, not a dream,
because I was still there,
still breathing,
still trapped in the waking.
Reality bent in silence,
stitched itself behind my eyelids.
And there-
I saw it.
Myself.
Not whole.
Not steady.
A reflection unraveling-
confused,
afraid,
drowning in thoughts with no edges.
I was lost
in a village that didn’t exist,
streets folding into themselves,
doors leading nowhere,
every path whispering: stay.
I opened my eyes-
escaped,
or thought I did.
I reached for something soft,
something warm-
a memory,
a lie,
a place where waves breathe for you.
But comfort wouldn’t come.
So I tried again-
closed my eyes,
begged the dark for a beach,
for light,
for anything but me.
Nothing answered.
Only the echo of myself,
waiting.
I opened my eyes-
too fast,
too late.
My lungs forgot their purpose.
Air turned to glass.
Each breath shattered inside me.
I clawed at the invisible,
choking on nothing,
on everything,
on the weight of being awake
when I shouldn’t have been.
The night pressed closer.
Watched.
I never slept after that.
And whatever found me there-
between sight and dream,
between breath and silence-
it hasn’t left.
Mar 21
Mar 21, 2026 at 9:07 AM UTC
I couldn’t sleep-
not because the night was loud,
but because it listened.
Each time I closed my eyes,
something answered.
A dream-
no, not a dream,
because I was still there,
still breathing,
still trapped in the waking.
Reality bent in silence,
stitched itself behind my eyelids.
And there-
I saw it.
Myself.
Not whole.
Not steady.
A reflection unraveling-
confused,
afraid,
drowning in thoughts with no edges.
I was lost
in a village that didn’t exist,
streets folding into themselves,
doors leading nowhere,
every path whispering: stay.
I opened my eyes-
escaped,
or thought I did.
I reached for something soft,
something warm-
a memory,
a lie,
a place where waves breathe for you.
But comfort wouldn’t come.
So I tried again-
closed my eyes,
begged the dark for a beach,
for light,
for anything but me.
Nothing answered.
Only the echo of myself,
waiting.
I opened my eyes-
too fast,
too late.
My lungs forgot their purpose.
Air turned to glass.
Each breath shattered inside me.
I clawed at the invisible,
choking on nothing,
on everything,
on the weight of being awake
when I shouldn’t have been.
The night pressed closer.
Watched.
I never slept after that.
And whatever found me there-
between sight and dream,
between breath and silence-
it hasn’t left.