That Night

Eyes, swollen red, maybe waiting for something.

Eyes like tap, tears rolling down my cheeks.

Eyes, they itch tiredly.

But they won’t shut.

They want to see more.

Take in more.

Be more.

Tossing and turning on my bed.

Thinking.

Gasping for air.

Hoping to find something in the darkness.

A suppressed yawn.

Dazed fog in my head.

Caught voice, cracked so much I can’t even answer my own questions.

Quietness.

Interrogating actions.

Crosschecking answers.

Sinking in an ocean of thoughts.

Deciding whether my life is stationery or is moving too fast.

The light grey pillow must have gotten dark because of my thoughts tipping over and spilling all over the place.

The more I ignored my unconscious, the more I found it in my conscious.

But from that hazy vision, the darkness was fading and light was breaking in.

It gave me hope.

It gave me peace.

I thought it was the end to my waiting.

I felt all determined and strong like a galaxy that burned too bright every night.

I forgot all the trouble.

I forgot that emptiness could be heavy.

But that night, I realised the constellation in me is filled with glittering light and stardust.

So I closed my weary eyes, hoped to kill the insomnia and sleep again.

And just maybe,

Dream again.

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