The Walk Home

One thing I can say is that I can never be truly fine at 2 AM.

I discovered this tonight when I was walking home from a friend's house after watching movies for hours, not thinking much of the walk, the weather, or my lack of sleep. After all, it was only a few blocks until I reached home. Now, I'm always wary when walking in the city at the early hours, but tonight I felt as though my mind was gone, and the insane whisperings of shadowy hallucinations replaced rational thinking. I always hallucinate after a certain time period of sleeplessness, but this night was a different case.

I held my keys in hand, eyes darting to anything that moved, sure it was a man coming out of the darkness to slit my throat, or worse. I walked like a schizophrenic heroin addict, shivering and twitching at random times, because the night was surprisingly cold and damp for the beginning of June. I only sported a T-shirt and short-sleeved sweatshirt. The miserable chill clung to me like a child with a fear of being abandoned. My skin, moist and clammy, felt like clay, could have melted off at any time. Tiny drops of rain spitted from the sky, enveloping me in a blanket of chill.

In the distance, a protruding side of a building became a person, a lifeless mannequin in the distance. It remained a person until I got about fifteen feet closer. Then it finally resumed the form of a wall, and my suspicions were confirmed that it was, in fact, a wall. Though my cracked mind still held some doubt. Every shadow was someone hiding behind a stoop or fence, dodging out of sight just before I could catch them with my paranoid eyes. These shadows watched me, to see if I would discover them. This twisted game of hide and seek could not be won, so I trudged ever onwards.

The night was going to get me. Even people I saw were mere puppets in different dimensions than I. They stood by, staring into space, unmoving, as I twitched and shivered my way on past them. Anyone who looked upon my face would see a contorted and hunted being, making their way home. They knew all too well the shadows would emerge from the stoops to swallow me whole, never to reach my destination. Fortunately, there were very few to look upon my face, so I kept it as contorted and worried as I liked. Only one woman's dog, on their late night walk, came up to me and broke the barrier of separation for just a moment by licking my hand. Beyond passing them, I was thrust back into obscurity and left to my own devices to find my way.

Finally, I overcame the darkness and gratefully entered my apartment building. I climbed the stairs, hardly feeling the impact, unlocked the door to my room, and proceeded to the land of dead sleep.

In the morning, I was sane as always, and went about my normal routine. The night before was a distant memory. The night never swallowed me whole. My mind, on the other hand, may very well have.