Those days I called normality. Since I stopped seeing them around, it’s the time to rethink my recovery. Yesterday I had my face kissed; I slept so easily. I hadn’t dreamily thought of reality. My imagination was my accusation. A friend of mine wanted to escape my complains. He never smiled from ear to ear since. I felt his yellowish beam.

This is insomnia. A disorder my night suffered. Once I decided to question my stiuation. Why I couldn’t slumber as back then?

My evolution from a boy into an adult was probably the reason. Perhaps. Perhaps in between. Because it is always in between where there’s the problem. A change occured weakly. A wind altered my window’s shape. All possibilities are to be considered.

I came to many conclusions but one that glued to my mind. Overthinking beyond overthinking. A stage where only difficult-to-change-people accomplish. I think much of upcoming days as if everything is settled. But nothing is yet gained. The pot is yet undecided, whether to use it or cook in Tajin. It’s all empty to be burned.

Sometimes I talked in my mind. Unheard of. I lived a noisy life. Only I could hear. After The All-Hearing. Of course. I had a lot of scinarios plotted specifically to impress girls I trapped to like. My imagination’s trap. I quite understood my situation that I didn’t kiss my pillow for so long. She rejected our relationship the moment she’s told I had Insomnia.
It bestowed on me wonders. I happened to jot them down. I came up with fluent writings. I longed for its stay until I completed my drafts. She’s my precious assistant. I loved being in that frame of mind.

It lasted for some weeks.

But later on it became so terrifying. My eyes turned up smoke-clouded. I hated that normality. Productivity.

It came I saw it doubts. Then my only option to get over it was to shut me down from within and outside. I reconsidered my recovery.