#guess who used this as an excuse to stay up til 5am on new years day

[halichor]

I'm not immune to making my bg3 PCs wear the wavemother's robe 😶‍🌫️

(also sorry for dropping off the face of the earth, art block is a bitch and a half and I had owed art to prioritize 🥹)

[eword10-blog1]

Sleepless Nights..

.. I often wonder what it is i have done to cause the sandman to despise me, to hate me. He doesn't visit me anymore. He doesn't hit me with his sand of sleep, or send me off to the island of dreams anymore. .. No. He visits everyone else in my household, but rejects me, as though i am an unwanted outcast. He treats me as though i am unworthy of his sleep sand. ... Maybe the shadows of my nightmares became too strong. Maybe he doesn't hate me, and he rejects me in a means to save me from the horror of those.. Even so. Little sleep, even screaming-thrashing-sweating-ready to take flight sleep is slightly better than zero sleep.

...

My mind wanders about such things. Trying to analyze every possible reason, meaning and excuse displayed. I try to piece it back together, i try to comprehend the "sense" it makes.. But i struggle. And that struggle, makes the search for sleep a distraction to the newly acquired mission.

...

I have to know the answers to my questions. Half of these questions don't even have answers, but-- hey, my brain figures if the answers cannot be found i have all the time to create meaningful answers to these questions I'll later forget when I'm crashing after 4-5 days later with unfinished work that no longer makes sense.

...

And after i crash, after i wake up, for the next 4-5 days, I'll be trying to make sense of my previous work-- which then becomes another "newly acquired mission" and the cycle continues.

...

Sleepless nights, become mornings. I lose track of what day it is, what the actual date is, and after a week-- when I'm on a manic high-- i lose count of how many days I've been awake. After six days, i lose count. Counting the days i am awake no longer matters because i know for at least a maximum of two weeks i will not receive a visit from the sandman. Sleep will not enter into my presence.

...

When 2am, 3am, 4am, and 5am roll around.. It isn't hard to depict how lonely i really am compared to the lonely i feel. Everyone seems to be asleep. Passed out. Conked. Knocked. Gone. As to me, i am still awake.

...

Stop looking for sleep and it will come to you.

...

Lies.

...

I could be exhausted, crawl into bed, get all comfy and warm and right as i begin to doze off, right as i begin to fall, to drift.. Right as my eyelids begin to flutter closed, i am wide awake. The feeling of exhaustion dissipates.

**going to sleep this early is a horrendous idea! There is so much to think about, to write, to do!**

The man in my head is so full of life and ideas.. I get up--knowing if i ignore him for too long, i will regret it. Deeply.

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Sleepless nights.. I swear, i should be used to them by now. Memories flood back. Words hit me like a knife. The sounds. The smells. The tastes. The pain. The hurt. The memories. The past.

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How do let go of something, when it continuously haunts you? How do you heal, when all you can do is run.. There's no more places to bury the hurt. There's no more places left to hide the pain. The secrets inside are bubbling up, boiling, ready to explode. Ready to spill. The words ready to tumble.

...

I give them but one escape. I write. I let the words flow from my fingertips, whether it be on a phone, a laptop, or my favorite way- a pencil and paper. I capture them as i write them. They cannot grow free. They cannot run to disappear just to come back and haunt my life again when i think things are slightly looking up.

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Writing is truly a beautiful outlet.

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Don't ever let it slip away.

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These sleepless nights are just full of conversations that only exist in my head. So full of thoughts, that no one will ever hear. So full of ideas, no one will ever see. So full of creativity, and yet, so empty. Everything written, drawn, created- is all kept where it cannot be noticed. Where it cannot be read. Or seen. And it can never be judged by the public eye.

...

So many thoughts. But memories pull at the thoughts that have become words. ... Creativity never to be seen so i can escape the judgment that could be helpful, yet never changes. It remains to be full of hatred. Discourages a person to let go of what gives them life. Crushes and burns away a dream. No.. I'll stay sheltered. Because sadly, staying sheltered is a means to keep it all safe. Protected. Unharmed.

...

Once upon a time, in the year 1995, i transferred from one school to another- due to moving. My new school seemed okay. Until I met my bully. I was a scrawny, dangly, lil white kid, with these big ass glasses that covered half of my face. I guess i made the perfect target.

Maybe i should have stood up to my bully.. But i was more of a runner back then. And my bully terrified me. Everyday after school, i ran home. Not stopping until i was safe behind my front door. Locking it, just to be sure. Slacking on details.. But. Not all details come out off rip. Other details need to be explained, and to explain them, I'd fall off track of this story and get lost in at least 5 others. .. Back to my bully. This chick was dumb stupid tall.... Or maybe it just felt that way, cause i was short. Like REAL short. Short, scrawny, dangly, four eyes. I don't know when she decided that she couldn't be my friend.. I guess being a bully was more appealing. She humiliated me, day in-day out. Pushed me down on the playground, having her lil wanna be bullies making sure i didn't get up til recess was over cause if i did-- i wasn't 100 on what she would do, but i really didn't want to find out either. I couldn't read, write or spell to save my life back then.. When the teacher would have us reading a book, those of us that couldn't read had to choose another student to read for us. My bully made sure my decision every single time was her. She did good, in front of the teacher. Playground, recess, gym, at lunch.. Let's laugh at me because i couldn't read "simple" words. Not only did i hear it at home, i heard it at school. "How dumb can you be" "who wears those types of clothes" "four eyes"... All types of sideways comments just to break someone down to feel better about yourself?? I seen that hate start at five years old. From people i didn't even know. I never stopped thinking i was a target. Never stopped believing there was seriously something wrong with me that attracted people to fuck me over in every way possible.

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I should be a bitter, cold hearted, hateful man. ... But. I'm not. I still got a big heart. I still help people out. And i still try to understand, or piece together where in fuck i made a mistake? Granted, people make decisions to hurt others that half the time doesn't even relate to the person they choose to hurt.. But i could never believe that my luck was just that shitty.

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I guess her wanna be bullies could also be titled her goon squad. It's been 22 years. 22 years, and i still remember her face. I remember the way her voice sounds. I remember the way she said things, and i remember the words she spoke. I remember her dead stare. I remember every threat. And i remember her name. Audrianna. And i remember she hated me. From the moment she saw me, she hated me. Why? I have not one good goddamn idea.

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The past is a bitch that hurts. A ghost that haunts. A riddle with no obvious answer. A rhetorical question that doesn't require a response.

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Let go of my past.. Move on.. Get on with my life.. Yeah. If i could have done any of the above, i would have. So far, those things still feel far, far away and out of my reach.

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Sleepless nights, I'm wide awake

Dreams full of fright, a deep breath i take

The war exists, in my bed

When i close my eyes, all the attacks rush me in my head

No escape, no exit

I punch the walls, the doors i hit

Locked tight n firm, not even a little budge

I feel like a worm, helpless, give me a little nudge

Wake me up, free me from this sleep

This dream is miserable, the contents have become too deep

Run. Just run. Don't look back

This is when the darkness comes, blinding me from the right track

Shadow people chase me, they want to hijack my mind

They want inside my brain, i hide hoping it is me they do not find

Because all i feel is a deep sense of fear and a deep sense of pain

I try to wake myself, but it just doesn't seem to work

They run towards me, i think I've been found

My heart is beating bizerk and yet has no sound

I see a vision of them killing me, my body bloody

My inner core bare

My heart cut out

Perfectly. As if it were never there.

I yell, i shout

But ears are to no avail

I tried to escape.

I tried to be free.

All i managed to accomplish, was to fail.