Late Night Thoughts

It is 12:04 AM.

I am sitting here in my family room and I am tired.

Not ordinary “yawn” tired.

I am tired of my feelings.

I am tired of my anxiety.

I am tired of being sad.

Not only am I tired of being sad, I am exhausted.

I hate myself for staying up so late when I tell myself “earlier to bed tomorrow”.

I hate myself for not holding myself to higher standards.

I hate myself for over-eating.

I hate myself for not being who I want to be…

And now, it is 12:07 AM, and my paranoia strikes.

What was that sound? Is there someone at the window? Am I going to die?

My heart starts racing, my typing gets faster, more frantic.

I start to get nervous and my anxiety kicks in.

But wait, the doors are all locked.

This is just another night.

I better check, just in case.

I get up, I check the door, barely opening the curtain, careful in case there is a face peering back in at me.

Locked.

I keep telling myself “it’s only your imagination”.

I think of that Dateline episode.

The one where a killer went to a complete stranger’s house and killed their whole family.

I have been scarred ever since.

Once he goes to bed, the demons come out and start haunting me.

Torturing me.

Taunting me.

Scaring me.

12:10 AM. My heart rate slows.

I suddenly need to get up. I slowly walk through the house, phone on highest brightness, to do whatever I need to do.

I walk into the bathroom and look into the mirror.

I see the devil staring back at me, critiquing every little detail.

I stare myself straight in the eyes.

I look pale, I look fear stricken, I look disappointed.

Disappointed in myself.

Disappointed that I’ve let myself get this far.

What is wrong with me?

I look back. 12:16 AM.

I am finally calm enough to go to bed.

As long as I have my stuffed bear tightly under my arm and 6 layers of blankets on top of me and pulled to my nose, I feel safe.

Hopefully the fear doesn’t eat me alive.

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