I take a jagged breath. Eyes closed. Facing the wall.
I squeeze tighter. "If you ignore it, it should go away".
My mattress shaking violently, like a earthquake is splitting the ground beneath me, threatening to drag me in.
Another jagged breath. It begins to rain. My pillow, now a desolate pool of ocean water, polluted by my thoughts.
I bury my nose deep between the eyes of sadness living in my bedroom.
"If you ignore it, it will surely go away". My mantra.
A hiccup from unsteady gasps.
The lights are not flickering, that's you shaking again.
I hope sometimes it would stop
So I try to ignore it
But deep down inside
I know if I didn't storm
I would never be exausted enough
for my brain to welcome sleep.