Sleep Patterns

Day after day I sit in my room and watch the sunrise from my bed. Night after night I wake up to the sounds of my family getting ready for bed. I’m so afraid. I’m alone in every sense of the word, and it terrifies me. The fact that nobody will remember me after my inevitable death makes me sick. The fact that my family would only show up to my funeral because they have to nauseates me. The fact that I’m the one pushing people away makes me see red. I can’t understand my own emotions and the only thing I can think about is suicide, so I sleep instead in a pitiful attempt to extend this worthless life just a little bit longer. It’s pointless, really. Trying to keep myself alive. It’s like keeping a broken toy. I just don’t work like I’m supposed to, and there’s no one to blame but myself. I’m the one who insists on being alone. I’m the one who won’t speak about my problems. Not that anyone cares, anyway. I’m dying and there isn’t anyone who can save me from myself. I am afraid.