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  • I can only tell about the insomnia that is mine. I do not know the others and they do not know me. I only know my dark eye shadows and the layers of makeup I wear, very thick and well done every day. I am not fifteen anymore and it also keeps me awake.

    The moment I lie down until the moment the alarm sounds, a lot happens, always. There are days when I sleep. In others, like today, the rest does not even come for a quick visit. And for some reason, still unknown to me, I know it at the very moment that I close my eyes - and they refuse to sleep. Five more hours to start my new class, and so far, nothing. It has been more difficult since the day I decided to move.

    I do exactly everything what experts recommend - the annoying routine rituals. I do not take decisions at night, at most a hot tea. Yet here I am, a little lost and distraught, looking for what to do while nothing happens. It is when the insomnia gets camouflaged, like a chameleon, looking for another good bed. Instead, it stops here, again.

    Insomnia is another way of being lonely.

    And thus loneliness is worse, because it just turns out into silences which force me to think. In a deaf morning, my mind is just an empty space for dumb thoughts, dirty thoughts, one or two which were born almost dead. Others that will never leave. They repeat in every moon and insinuate to me as an attractive novelty. They do not fool me. I do not sleep for so long, but I still have sanity. I suppose. Which is more than I suspect and less than I assure. The good thing is I have plenty of time to think about it - there is nothing to do now. The class starts soon and thankfully there will be coffee. Even the elevators are no longer working, there is just the wind that keeps knocking on the window, in that strange way, which seems anything but melody or a bad one, made by the worst contemporary composers. A misunderstood genius in life and in death. See? It moves these non stop thoughts. Uncritical, too. Completely irrespective. When the dawn threats to come, the sleep arrives. It is too annoying! It only wants me when it can not have me. A nuisance pattern that is in repeat since I no longer remember. Even when the subject is another. Now, leave me I do not want, now I can not. Do not stalk me. Do not tempt me. I am getting out of here.

    [I am a fan of moons, this picture is just another attempt of capturing it in a nice way. The way it should.]
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