I slept less than 3 hours again. Not in one batch but in fragments. Every time waking up with a long blank stare at a ceiling that hosts a whole army of shadows all night long. Sometimes I see faces in them. Most laughing. Some expressing pity. Most nights I get up and walk around in the semi darkness. Into the living room. Sit on a reclining chair that used to bring so much comfort. Now it’s just a very familiar night time piece of furniture that has long time ago stopped offering comfort. Or maybe I stopped caring that it did so the it just stopped caring too. On cold night I let the cold seep into my bones to a point of deep chill so I can then wrap myself in this soft and warm blanket. To come as close to a human hug as possible. I hug inanimate creation to pretend it’s a living being. At the same time I reject hugs from beings that try to give me the warmest of embraces. There was a time when I embraced those. Tightly. Never wanting to let go. Yet I eventually did. The same happens with the blanket. It warms me up. Infuses temporary comfort that almost borders bliss into me. Then suddenly I feel hot and I squiggle out of it. Abandon it. Let the cold attack once again. Then repeat the whole thing again. Familiar pattern. Even with inanimate things I find a way to push away. I just want rest. I desire a night of uninterrupted sleep. Instead I continue to pollute everything with fragmentation. Some days little sleep effects me not. Other days it skews things. Elevates anxiety. Stains my sanity. It’s all so pitiful. Pathetic. No wonder that even the shadows find it repulsive… Perhaps sleep needs to be earned. Hugs, life. All of it. Earned not expected. Here comes the cold again. Daytime as well. Coffee. The pattern continues…