The Insomniac Diary

There are stories, myths, written in books and passed down from old croon to small child about creatures of the night. These are made out of creatures of horror, someone to fear and to hide from. Creatures that during the day shy away from the light and only re-emerge from their weary slumber when the moon goes down. 1

I am one of those creatures. But I am not to be feared or to loathed nor should I go down in lore. I am a normal person, of flesh and bone. I don’t crave the blood of living souls or seek vengeance on those who have plagued me. But I am cursed, not by a spell or an enchantment to teach me a lesson in humanity. I am cursed by something simpler, much more human.2

I am an insomniac.3

And this is my diary. 4

This is not some work of fiction created from a deluded mind, well maybe my mind is ever so slightly deluded but this is real. At least I think it is. When I can’t sleep it’s hard to distinguish the difference between what is real and what is not. Sound, smell, colours all change at night, when you are alone with the lights off with nothing but the conversations in your head and the sounds of the passing cars to keep you company.5

For years the night has never been a good time for me. According to my mother even as a baby I never slept. When I was born the nurse took my father to see me in the nursery. In this room was dozens of newborns, all looking identical except for maybe the colour of their hair and their skin, all sleeping soundly still in the foetal position like they were in their mothers stomach. The nurse guided my dad up to the window and he asked “Which one is my little girl?” to which to nurse pointed with a self satisfied smile, “You’re going to have your hands full with this one” And there I was, lying in my crib, eyes darting back and forwards, neck craning trying to look up and above my crib. I was less than a day old and already I was observing the world in all its minute details. My dad looked worryingly at the nurse and asked “Is that normal?” The answer he got in return would be one that would typified the rest of my life and perhaps just maybe I heard the nurse utter these words and somewhere in my subconscious they have been buried there ever since, defining me and slowly moulding the path that I have chosen;6

“No Sir, That is definitely not Normal” 7

Now twenty three years on I still can’t switch off like any normal person, my mind constantly races, plotting, pondering, doubting. When all others are tucked up in bed, dreaming their dreams, I sit alone wishing I could be like them. Wishing for my mind to be still and to stumble across peace instead of frantically chasing it til I despair. 8

This is my diary of my minds journey during this time. I hope by putting my waking sleeps thoughts down on paper that maybe one day they will make sense to me in day light, and maybe one day my mind will find the peace that is searches for.....9

Welcome to my nightmare. 10