Anna

A short story about a girl named Anna.

It is very cold for an August night and it brings Anna back to her adolescence. She recalls the empty nights spent wandering her suburban neighborhood, walking away from sleep. Insomnia, her old friend. And while it was a burden in someways, it really was similar to an old friend. When she couldn't sleep as others did, Anna coped. She always got this almost indescribable feeling, the one she gets only very late at night, or very early in the morning, depending upon how you look at it. Step by step Anna distanced her self away from the hopeless pursuit of sleep. Anxiety and fear diminishing with every inch farther, every breath of fresh air, every inhale of smoke. It was routine for Anna to wait for her family to fall asleep, and to escape through her window like a thief in reverse. She treasured the quiet, the thick weight of the world at rest. Walking farther and farther into what some would call madness, Anna would pass picture perfect houses imagining the dreams of each owner. Imagining the families sleeping within, completely alone with her thoughts. It occurs to the now later Anna that it all sounds terribly depressing, the lonely girl who couldn't sleep picturing other peoples dreams. It is hard to describe the way Anna felt about being alone. The word carries an undeniable negativity, but being alone was all that kept her together. It was only alone that she was able to reflect on her self without fear of her secrets plain on her face. Anna's thoughts were different after a few days gone not sleeping. As she walked she saw things that would seem ordinary in daylight, a beauty only revealed to her. As her thoughts kept her awake, time slowed. Moving so sluggishly, it hardly seemed to move at all. It made her so calm, so detached from herself. Walking miles each night and smoking the weed that was not enough, slipping through the streets like a ghost, a shadow, a cat. Silent, watchful, ready. In those days Anna seldom slept deeply, and it only happened after smoking and walking to the point of exhaustion. It is a wonder no one knew for so long, so many sleepless years. It is a wonder her teachers gave up asking her if she was okay so quickly. There was no answer to such a vague question. It is a wonder nobody noticed the deep purple rings around her eyes. They chalked it up to drugs, to drinking. She was troubled, but not the kind of trouble they were interested in fixing. These days Anna sleeps heavy dreamless sleep due to a therapists prescription. And still, sometimes there is a night so beautiful she can't help but forgo those ugly narcotics. There are nights when Anna misses spying on the dreams of the unconscious. On these nights, Anna walks for miles, smoking the weed that is not enough. It is very cold, for an August morning.