Wednesday, 19 July 2017

TTIH - Insomnia. #4

I never sleep straight on my back. I always hold myself, my left side bearing all my body weight.
"It's a lot of weight. I need to lose weight. I'm getting fat. College starts soon. I need to pack. Do I have a minimum of three earphones and five chargers to fulfil my paranoia of 'what if one stops working?'."

My arms envelope each other and sometimes a few strands of my open, frizzy hair get caught in the crease my elbow makes when it folds to protect me from my own thoughts. I'm a bird behind bars. My fingers glide up and down my acne ridden arms, comforting myself, or at least trying to make me think about anything else but the bumps they're trying to smoothen out. "I need a distraction" I think, and reach out for my headphones.
My knees double up upwards towards my stomach like when I'm laughing with my friends, but the expression on my face is different and not something you'd call happy. When my face is pressed against the pillow and salt water distorts my vision by getting into my eyelashes and sliding across my face, it lands in the crook of my ear; I'm surprised there are no salt deposits there yet.
My feet are almost on top of each other sideways, covering each other, with my toes intertwined. They look uncomfortable to other people, so I hide them in my blanket making sure I lift it enough number of times and rapidly place it under my feet to make a personal cocoon, double folding it around me making sure my worries and whimpers don't escape into the darkness of the night that slowly turns into dawn. I finally fall slave to sleep at 5:30 am, after acknowledging the risen state of the birds outside my home.

- My insomnia is getting worse.




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- Ragini Zutshi Anand

Disclaimer: this write up is a work of fiction.