McNamara

It's 3:00 again. The dust settles on the TV, creating shapeless patterns of filth. As good as it feels to rely on this state of conscienceness, there is a level of bewilderment that thrusts itself unbecomingly into my thoughts. Is it really 3:00 again? How long have I been awake? Has it been days? Weeks?
I stumble into the kitchen, and turn on the sink. Cold water rushes from the tap, and for a moment I am stunned by the brilliant patterns that the water creates. The small droplets dance on the walls of the sink, then slowly descend into the drain, leaving small streaks that run and disappear.
Rolling up my sleeves, I reach under the tap, and splash water on my face. I know it's going to happen again. I know I'm going to have to fight it off when it gets here. I can almost feel my stomach cringing as pain takes hold and grips my entire body. I can see the flashes of light as my eyes refuse to focus.
"What am I doing awake?!" I mutter to myself, refusing to answer, and yet not really contemplating sleep. I should be asleep. I should let myself drift off. I should light another cigarette, and lay in my bed, until I am overcome with the joyous relief of sleep.
I don't feel it however. I don't feel that sleep will ever let me escape into her clutches. I notice a small spot of water on my sleeve, and I'm off again. I'm sailing into the reality of progressive thought. A reality where an idea can build on another idea, growing progressively larger, and more complex.
My brain twists and contemplates the human as a mass of energy. I see myself walking and moving, but do not feel as if I am controlling the actions. It is if my mind has a completely different idea than I.
Blinking, I realize where I am as I come to. I look over at the clock. I've been standing here washing my face for 30 minutes now. The water is still running, and as I shut it off, the spout makes a nasty hiss. Retrobution for letting it run so long. Stumbling again, I find my way to the couch. It's almost here. I could practically set my watch by it. It's almost time again.
I think to myself of all the wonderful things in the world. Children, quiet, my Mother and God, but none seem to quell the feeling that something terrible is about to happen. I can almost taste the knot in my stomach. Frayed, and Gordian it leaps into my throat with each passing breath.
A cigarette would do nicely now. Maybe I better have one before...I know that after I'll be barely able to move. Flipping open the box top, I manage one to my lips, now trembling with anticipation. Lighting it is an excercise in patience and futility as the dancing flame makes my mind wander again.
"Smoke em if you got em, chief." Were his words. The rang into my head everytime I chose to light up. I shook my head wearily, and swore. No matter how many times I tried, everytime I was like this, it sounded like those words were being whispered. It sounded as if he were right here.
I took a deep pull off of the cigarette. Feeling the smoke expand in my lungs like so many times before. Slowly I exhaled. It was time. 3:43am. I could almost set my watch by it. I leaned back, and took one more drag off of my cigarette.

Only one thing to do now...


--Titus

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MrRed

I like it...even though im not sure what its about ....insomnia maybe? will there be a finish?

Animals

I've had the same thing going on for the last 4 months, Except it's usually 4:41 am LOL

beats

Well written.

It seems like it's about insomnia, because it seems to fit a lot of my nights.

Although I got sleep last night, great sleep. I thank the 10 bong hits I took a day or so ago.

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YetiManY3K

Well done, though the essence of it isn't really refined. It's nicely written but it leaves the reader wondering what it means. Try a few revisions and repost it if you are up to it, I'd like to read the final.

Zero

Thats not always a bad thing.

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twisty

Hey are you talking about The Fear? Sounds like it... I used to be woken every morning at 3.00am exactly, pinned to the bed by nothing, completely paralysed and convulsing in fear - not of anything corporeal - just a sense of something demonic - which is really scary for an atheist. The sleep deprivation was nearly as bad as the panic.- I hope thats not what your talking about - I'd like to think thats a malfunction noone else has to ever suffer.

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