Restless Nights

A restless mind

It’s 1:56am. Tired. Stayed up past 6am last “night”. Strange dreams. Woken without my consent.

But I cannot sleep. I toss and I turn, and overheat for no apparent reason.

(Was reading about an ancient master visiting his master’s grave. I long for another life. Another romanticized ghost?)

It seems I can’t stop seeking. My mind doesn’t know when to quit. Even after taking great strides these past few weeks, it wants more and more. It’s never enough.

Every time I wake without adequate rest, I think to myself: “At least I should be able to sleep tonight.” But it’s never true. The body is tired — something else isn’t.

Is it because this is the only time it can arise? Whatever this thing is. That’s the thought I have now. There must be a reason for all of this. It’s not just aimless grasping. Dare I say it’s effective.

This thing needs to have its say. And it won’t allow me rest until it’s satisfied. This is the only thing I can think of. And it makes sense.

Years ago I used to grind my teeth at night unknowingly. Upon visiting the dentist, she was alarmed and said my molars were “smooth like ice rinks”.

I never thought much of it then, but I now suspect it was caused by a restless, deep despair. A blind one at that.

I never thought I had a problem. I never knew the lies in my life. I couldn’t have ever imagined how off everyone was. How we all lived in complete delusion. Helpless victims fighting amongst each other.

Knowing what I know now would have granted me so much solace back then. I would have taken pride in being an outsider rather than feeling alienated like it was a bad thing.

But even though I couldn’t put words to it, I knew it was all bullshit. I knew something sinister was going on. And I wanted nothing to do with it. Solitude was my only chance at peace. To me there was nothing better than spending an entire weekend alone.

I just stopped trying altogether. Despite all consequences, I dared to stop playing the little games. I saw the futility in it all. And I suffered the repercussions alone, of which there were many. All I ever wanted to do was put in what I needed to get by so I could get the hell out of there.

Those were the worst years of my life. But even after it was all over I was shell-shocked. I immediately sought my way out via truth, but the half-truths I found paled in comparison to all of the lies I was fooled by as well.

None of it really matters now. But I do often wonder how I managed to get to this point at all.

The changes are rapid. Freedom is becoming mine. Guilt has turned to ash. For I have learned that when one seeks “me”, what they’re really chasing after is the idea of me.

And as soon as they “get it”, they realize it wasn’t what they were truly looking for in the first place. So why oblige them?

If you truly didn’t care about being perceived this way or that, you wouldn’t. And so I’ve stopped returning messages to most people. I just don’t even think about it. And if I allow myself to, there’s no bad feeling.

On the rare occasion I’m the one to initiate the contact, I’m acutely aware of what it is that I’m actually doing.

So then why do I proceed?

I don’t know. Perhaps because I feel like I can control what’s going on with this knowing invested in me.

Perhaps because I see it for what it is, I feel victorious over it and allow myself the guilty pleasure.

Where does all of this lead?

Well, I’ve still yet to paint the whole picture. So you’ll just have to wait and see.

But I know what comes along with it. And that is a complete and total disregard for what the world and its people think.

An impenetrable filter on the things that enter my mind.

An ever-willingness to quietly question myself, so that I may prevent the unnecessary disasters, that are surely headed my way.

To escape from Alcatraz. To see the circus for what it is.

And to know life, before I lose my only chance.