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The night gets old.

My mind has exploded onto the four walls of my bedroom. Thoughts, words, images, and memories. At this point, I don’t make any sense. The use of sarcasm is constant. Insomnia is a bitch. A cold-hearted bitch. I tried to sleep but instead I laid awake in bed, alone. It makes me a bit scared. I did not want to talk to you, you were a faint memory of mine. Not important enough of a memory. Fuck this shit. I don’t understand. I’m thinking loudly and these are the random thoughts in my head. There are eyes on my wall, so many fucking eyes. They watch me everywhere I go. My bed does not seem inviting, it’s the rectangular shaped monster that tries to snatch me up to the universe of slumber. This universe is infinite. My sanity is slowly reaching to an end and now I just don’t sound sane anymore. Fuck this, insomnia is such a bitch.