It's probably been a week or more since the current insomnia episode started. Somehow I wish I could say that this is the longest I've gone without sleeping, but that would have been a lie. Don't get me wrong, this craving for a different reality has nothing to do with shame, guilt or any of the “conventional” distresses. I'm terrified. Over time, a persistent droning in the back of my mind, is gaining ground, though I attribute it to the lack of sleep, that seems to be taking its toll. It's like a seed of corruption, fuelled by the endless moonlight, that I've grown to loathe with a passion. How the great silver orb, mockingly dresses my weary features in its white light. Yet here I am, standing at the open window, measuring the outlines of the city with an envious glare.
How the hell has it come to this?! What went wrong in the fabric of this reality, so that I must suffer this appalling fate. In a single furious motion I deliver a kick to the nearby nightstand, sending whatever was placed on the top, flying towards the bed and floor. Loud rattling accompanies a chaotic rearranging of the items on the floor, as I turn my gaze towards the figure wrapped snuggly in the sheets of the bed. Alice is sleeping ever so soundly, her delicate features shifting slightly, as silent breaths escape her lungs. Waking her up with this reckless noise is not an actual concern. Whoever goes to sleep in your reality, cannot wake until you yourself have fallen asleep and have woken up to a new dawn. And she had gone to bed what was probably many days ago.
“Alice?” A raspy and foreign voice escapes my mouth and almost makes me wince. Wow. Not being able to sleep, can truly take a toll on a man. I should really try to drink more water. But I've grown to detest that as well. It reminds me too much of the time I spent gobbling down sleeping pills, to the point of almost killing myself. I only did it so I could lay down next to her and surrender myself to the warmth of her body and the sweet oblivion of dreamless sleep.
I give up on trying to provoke any kind of response from Alice. I know too well, she will not wake until I have closed my eyes for the night. I grab a pack of cigarettes and head for the front porch. Smoking is also a bad habit to be practicing during such a time, but I've exhausted all of my ideas. The neighbourhood is eerily silent. There are many other insomniacs in the area that I usually come across at a time like this, but they all fall asleep eventually. Bastards. How I envy their passage into the oncoming day. I wrap my lips around the filter and the lighter illuminates my face, sparking the beginning of this sickening kiss. The flame dies out and gives way to the traitorous ember at the tip. I drag and slowly release my demons into the night sky.
“Can I borrow the light?” The inquiry catches me off guard, but I keep calm and turn to my right. A young man with a cigarette in his mouth is standing next to me.
“Sure thing,” I reply, with that same tired, almost gargling voice.

I hand him the lighter and examine his features. It's strange, how I've never seen him around. With that mohawk hairstyle and all the piercings, it's peculiar that he's managed to slip my attention. He hands me back the lighter and nods in approval. “Thanks,” he mumbles. I don't bother to answer and take another drag of the cigarette. A few moments pass, with us both just smoking and not saying anything. It's almost too tranquil to disturb it with talking. “How long has it been?” I ask. “Huh?” mumbles the man, evidently not having the same thoughts as me. “How long since this night has begun?” I repeat my question. He gives me a quizzical glance and shrugs his shoulders. “Dunno. A lot probably,” he dismisses the topic. I am not satisfied with how the topic had died and press further. “Like, a couple of days maybe? What do you think?” I try my luck again. The young man looks at me with a surprised expression and scoffs. “Hah. Days. Yeah.” He takes one last puff and ashes the cigarette on the sole of his boot. “You should get some sleep man. You don't look too good.” “What?” I spurt and turn around to face him. But he's gone. Just like that. Vanished. I don't pay it much mind, since many irregularities at this point, can be attributed to insomnia. I turn towards the window to ash the cigarette and then it hits me. The person staring at me from the window. My reflection. My oh so, tired and exhausted reflection. The grainy and scraggly beard and the shrivelled features of my face, glaring back at me in awe. The mind behind the mask, trying to comprehend what it's seeing, how on earth this happened. And as the terrifying understanding dawns upon me, I fall to my calloused knees and uncontrollable sobbing takes hold and shakes my entire body. How could I have grown so old? I know. It wasn't days. It wasn't weeks. It's been years, decades even, since I've last closed my eyes in hope of embracing the light of a new day.