Not many people understand what insomnia is like.
For an individual with depression, insomnia is a living hell that you literally cannot escape. All day, you avoid your thoughts, sometimes successfully...sometimes not.
You keep yourself occupied, keep yourself focused... anything so that your thoughts won't drift into the darkness of your own mind.
Then it gets to that time, you have to try and sleep.
You toss and turn all night. You can't escape the dark anymore.
It haunts you, it taunts you.
You end up thinking about everything, everything before, and anything that could come. None of it is good.
Your depression hits, and you end up crying; but not crying yourself to sleep. No, you're a pathetic sight: a little girl in hysterics and no one knows what is wrong, yet no one can care... no one is there.
The white walls soak up all the sounds. The quiet is not peaceful. It is polluted with murmurs of inadequecy, your own thoughts mocking you.
The sun greets you with an insult, reminding you how you're going to slug on through the day.
The birds chirp snickers at your pathetic attempts of sleep.
Sleep is supposed to be an escape... there is no rest for an insomniac's mind. There is no time to forget or relax.
Just more time to think terrible thoughts.
crazyshaelie