Sleepless

I had to get out. The heaviness of the air was suffocating me. I can't just lay here and pretend that sleep will visit me without a struggle. I am so uncomfortable although everything is how it should be. I can't.

So I was looking forward to this moment all day. I waited patiently as the second hands slowly moved around the clocks face, fighting my desire to rest again. I have a big day tomorrow and sleep will make everything feel better. Now the time has come and nothing. Just the walls staring down on me. A burden I never wanted, a release that never came.

It was late. Too late for any sane, normal person to just be sitting outside, but the first rain was due today and the fresh breeze and clear air is what I feel I needed. So I step outside, and for a fleeting moment, it was beautiful.

The city destroyed my hopes as quickly as I allowed myself to believe in them. The picturesque view of the moon dancing with the stars in the clouds and the trees leaves cracking and lightly rustling, the sounds and smells of a still peaceful night and first rain ensnared my senses. But a ducks calls from the nearby lake scared me back to reality and the reality was far from beautiful.

I was in the suburbs. This suburb in particular has never been a peaceful place. Every third or fourth house has a bad story to tell and paranoia has saved me from several trips to emergency from the local troublemakers. I was a fool to try to find unhampered beauty in a hole like this.

I regained my focus after being startled by the ducks calls in the night and looked around. It was 1:30am and there was activity everywhere. Half the neighbouring houses had lights on. The street lights are flooding the ground with a fog of light which I can't see past. Why are there so many cars driving past at this time of night? Was there something going on?

Even now that the rain was dropping on me every other second and the breeze was fresh, my illusion had been shattered and my chance for a quick resolution for my inability to sleep had escaped me.

I sit here writing in the night, trying to find solace in the remnants of beauty that remains. I think I will be okay. I must be truly desperate to turn to writing, this is not like me at all.

When the time comes for sleep, I will not miss the chance. Until then, I will sit here and try not to get caught up thinking how we never experience anything. Its all just a bunch of electric pulses through a meat sack that makes our existence. Ugh.