Insomnia.

Insomnia is about a woman struggling with not only insomnia, but also schizophrenia. Find out how it ends.

An hour ago, I was happy to finally go to sleep and follow the weaving, winding path of my dreams and nightmares. I was happy to sleep. I wanted to sleep. I needed to sleep. I. NEEDED. IT.

I tried.

Tried.

Tried.

Failed.

1:30 am.

Eyes wide open, fixed on the ceiling, limbs still, and anger mixed with frustration spreading, I scream. At the top. Of my lungs.

“I just need to sleep!” I cried.

The monsters under my bed shushed me with a violent jolt. I shot up, looked around my room first, then peaked under my bed. Nothing. Not a thing. I layed back down, flipped over on my right side to avoid having to look at the dark side of my room. I tucked myself tightly into bed and shut my eyes.

The monsters wouldn’t let me sleep.

In my head, they laughed, they teased, told me to step up to the ledge and just jump already.

“Then you can sleep forever!” One of them said.

I mechanically stood up, despite my protests to leave my bed. Unwillingly, my hands reached out to open my window. My legs failed to heed my requests to halt. I climbed my way to the ledge. My protests to the monsters were ignored.

And I woke up.

3:30 am.

The monsters tricked me. Their incessant taunts, constantly buzzed in my head, followed by daunting laughs. My agony amused them. They accused me of insanity. They chuckled about my so-called insanity. They called me crazy. I only wished I could face these monsters. I wished they would get out of my head!

4 am.

I stood cold in my dark, empty room. I had no idea how I got there. Last thing I remembered was being in bed, eyes shut tight, hoping the monsters would fade away when sleep took over. I noticed a bottle of whiskey in my right hand and a bottle of sleeping pills in my left. Then it hit me; maybe some real sleep would silence the monsters in my head. After all, this obnoxious chattering had to end. Maybe this is the way...

I popped the pill bottle open one-handed.

How many pills does it take to get to the REM cycle right now?

One?

Ten?

Twenty-eight?

Who cares, here I go.

Lifting the pill bottle to my lips and tilting my head back; my tongue counted one, two, three, four, five.

Washed it down with the whiskey.

4:15 am.

I’m drowsy, but the monsters have not ceased.

Again, lifting the pill bottle to my lips and tilting my head back; six, seven, eight, nine, ten. Washed it down.

4:30 am.

The monsters are getting quiet. Slowly but surely. My limbs are also growing weaker. I sat down on my bed.

Fifteen...

Seventeen...

Twenty-three...

Washed it down...

4:45 am.

Still the faintest noises and teases coming from the monsters. But I was too numb and weak to care.

Twenty-five....

Twenty-seven....

Thirty....

Whiskey bottle is empty....

5 am

Barely awake enough to notice the monsters were gone, I drew in my last deep breath.

I fell asleep.

Finally at peace.

And never woke up again.