Trouble Sleeping #3

I’ve been awake for some time now, and I’ve been thinking too much, or, too hard. Either way, I’ll have to start to move my muscles now. Movement doesn’t come naturally; you have to force movement to come about. Some say that there are times when our bodies move on their own, but that’s not what I mean, the unconscious movement of the heart or the lungs aren’t the type of movement I’m talking about. The one I’m talking about is how one gets up from bed; how we stretch, how we scratch our heads, how we open our eyes, how we move from lying on our backs to sitting on our asses as we become more and more woke.  That’s the kind of movement I’m talking about. We can’t do all of that without any intention to move, without telling our limbs to move, without having the will to move them, and without telling them to move.

But I don’t know how to, no, I’ve merely forgotten how to do it.

Do I need to continue thinking? Would it help me move? I doubt it. Maybe it’s because I’m too doubtful of others. Suspicion would be the death of me. I’ve lost count of how many people I’ve lost due to my suspicion towards them. It doesn’t necessarily mean that they’re gone, they’re very much alive and well, it’s just I don’t hear from them anymore. I don’t know how they are doing, heck I don’t even know who they are anymore. Do they remember me? I doubt that thinking about this, at this time, would help me move.

I don’t know if it’s dark or bright outside. I can’t see anything from where I am. I feel too tired to move away from where I am anyway, there’s no need to move at the moment. There’s no need to do anything when you’re stuck in a place like this, when every thought that passes through your mind already forces upon you the weight of isolation. I don’t think I’m stuck at one point in time and space anymore.

Where am I?


Trouble Sleeping #2

Maybe I’ll never find the answers to those questions, maybe I’ve already found those answers (or maybe those questions) whilst having my mind probed by the many psychologists I’ve been to. I know that there’s something wrong with my mind, but I don’t know what, and none of those psychologists had ever provided me any answers as to what is wrong with my mind. I swear to god, those people would suck me dry of my allowance, and still they can’t even help me find out what’s wrong with myself. Not to be degrading or anything, but I think years of studying psychology should be enough to make a person become, at least, more sensitive to what could be bothering someone’s mind right? Maybe I’m just too optimistic about the very enterprise of psychology; and optimism is not my thing.

I think I’m going to stop seeking psychological help, therapy doesn’t help. But coffee helps, also whiskey. Booze is a depressant, and caffeine stimulates you, taking both at the same time fucks you up though. I don’t recommend anyone to drink coffee with alcohol. Or maybe, I don’t recommend anyone to consume any psychoactive substances to help them with anything. They don’t help. If humans, the likes of you and me, can’t help someone that’s going through some inner turmoil in their heads, substances can’t. If humans can’t, nothing can. That’s what I’m trying to say. What to do then? Sleep.

Sleep is more of an escape than a need. It’s not a need if you feel the same without it. I guess that’s how I see things. It’s not a need if you’re completely fine without having or taking something. An addict would scratch their eyes and cut open their veins if they don’t get their fix, now that’s a need. Well maybe it’s addiction, but who could tell the difference between ‘need’ and ‘addiction’? I doubt they’re very different from one another. I think both of them exist on the same plane of existence.

I chuckled a bit there as I said ‘existence’, like I know what that is. I may have opinions on existence, but I don’t really get what it’s all about. Some French writers from the 60s that I read wrote whole books about existence, but I doubt I’ve ever finished even one of those books. I’m a lazy reader. I can’t really focus anyway. I guess there’s some drug out there, a miracle drug that would help me boost my focus, some cognitive enhancing snake oil.

I’ve lost count on time. How long have I been awake? An hour? Five hours? A whole day? Or is this night? I guess I’ll have to think about that too.

Trouble Sleeping #1

I was woken up by shrieks and screams in the distance, the kind of frightening sounds that would wake up even the hardest of sleepers. I’ve always been a hard sleeper, ever since I was small. My mother would repeatedly rock my body over and over again until I opened my eyes, and even then I would go back to sleep once she’d left. But this time, no one was rocking my body, not one finger was laid on me, and I’m already awake. Those screams are peculiar, and it ticked me off. I was awake and angry.

I opened my eyes, trying to remember what I was doing before I fell asleep. I could think of a few things: reading an old book I just downloaded on my phone, chatting with a faraway friend that I haven’t met in a while, and feeling the surge of ejaculate streaming into my hands. I could neither be sure which one was the last thing I did before falling asleep, or even, if I indeed had done those things before I slept.

I am easily disoriented to say the least, I have very bad memory of things that had just happened. There’s something in my head that prevents me from recalling events in the near past. I do, though, have relied heavily on my abilities to recall and remember things that had happened many months and years before now. So far, that thing hadn’t cost me anything. Yet. I’m pretty certain that it would affect me in a negative way in one way or another, but it didn’t happen yet. Right now it’s just a hunch I have, and I trust my gut, my gut tells me something and then it’ll happen. Sometimes it happens soon, sometimes not so soon, I can’t remember for sure either. That thing that’s holding me back from remembering things is stopping my inquiry about what happened before I sleep, and in turn, it stops any advances in finding out what caused me to wake up in such a way.


What happened? Why did I hear those screams? Why did they stop the moment I woke up from sleep? Why did they sound familiar? Were those the screams of people I knew? Why did they disappear from my life? Am I worthy of companionship or am I a resting place to soon abandon?


He locks himself inside of a small room with no intention of going out. What does he intend to do by doing this? Nothing. At least nothing that I know of. He had lost any sense of purpose in his life. We don’t know if he ever had any purpose in life at all. What we do know that he is in there right now, probably suffering from some sort of a neurotic episode.

I can hear him grinding his teeth together from behind this door. He’s definitely going through something right now, and he never tells anyone. He never goes deep into details. That’s just the way he is, seemingly closed off, but at the same time he’d tell you lengthy stories about his life and all the shit that happened to him. Maybe he’s just lonely, and that’s the way he copes with his loneliness. But then, why would he try to close himself off from the rest of humanity either? I don’t know. No one knows. All we know is that he’s just like that. He’s either too cowardly to, I don’t know, convey whatever the fuck is lingering inside of him.

He’s opening the door now.

Malam Rakus

“Mengapa langit petang membiru, Ibu?”

Tanya Anak pada Ibu, matanya yang hitam itu memantulkan cahaya dari lampu pijar tembok seberang. Ia kini mulai besar, enam tahun sudah umurnya, dan Ibu tetap saja menua. Ia kini mampu bertanya mengenai banyak hal baru, karena tingginya sudah sepinggang orangtua, dan pertanyaan-pertanyaan baru, perihal dirinya maupun perihal dunia, tidak berhenti keluar dari mulutnya. Mulut Anak yang belum pernah mengecap oplosan pinggir jalan.

“Langit petang membiru karena malam menelan matahari, anakku.”

Ucap Ibu pada Anak, dengan nada datar yang sudah biasa muncul dari mulut orangtua yang lelah dengan pertanyaan anak-anak. Orangtua mungkin akan senang melihat anaknya tumbuh besar dan sehat, namun mereka tetap perlu rehat, dan pertanyaan-pertanyaan anaknya kadang sukar untuk dijawab. Jam besar yang tegak di lantai pada sudut ruangan berdentang beberapa kali, menandakan hari sudah malam. Mungkin berdentang sepuluh kali, mungkin sebelas kali dentangan itu berbunyi, Ibu terlalu lelah untuk menghitungnya. Sudah lama Ibu menemani anaknya bertanya-tanya.

“Langit petang membiru karena malam menelan matahari, anakku.”

Anak mengulang perkataan Ibu dalam hati. Bagi si Anak, Ibu adalah orang yang paling bisa ia percaya. Bahkan, semua orang menurutnya harus percaya dengan Ibu. Belum cukup berkerut dahinya untuk kembali bertanya pada ibunya, tidak ada masalah yang muncul dalam kepala mungilnya kala mendengar jawaban Ibu itu. Malam, baginya, benar-benar menelan matahari. Ia percaya bahwa malam rakus, bahkan matahari pun dilahap habis olehnya. Langit membiru, karena malam rakus; lengan Ibu banyak bercak membiru, karena malam rakus.

Lampu pijar di tembok seberang diam. Jam besar yang tegak di lantai pada sudut ruangan diam. Ibu diam. Anak diam. Semuanya diam karena sudah malam.


The Things that Follow Me Around

Some things follow me around. They’d appear out of nowhere, and they’d start talking about things I don’t want to think about. Things my inability to have friends, or to fall in love, or to believe in other people. I try hard to not think of those things. But to them, releasing these thoughts are easy, too easy in fact. With enough of thoughts like this, I’m forced to lay lifeless on the cold hard floor. These things would disappear; if I’m lucky enough that is.  But most of the time they’d stick around longer, and destroy the peace of mind I’ve tried so hard to maintain. Their voices are silent and nobody hears them talking but me. I don’t know why, but these things love to follow me around.

Sometimes they’d bring up small and unimportant things. But fuck me, even the most unimportant things become painful to think of when repeated over and over again. One small mistake, like forgetting to return a book to the library, could feel like stealing a whole rack of books. They’d bring up one small mistake I made, and then say that what I did was more than that. They’d appear, they’d torment me with my own thoughts, only to disappear without a trace. I hate myself for not being able to handle them. I want them to go away. Why are they so persistent on making my life harder than it already is? I’m starting to think this is a curse. What was I talking about again?

I apologize, but, they’re here right now. Even when I’m talking to you about them, I can’t really explain what they are or what they do clearly to anyone. They’re just too much. Too much. These things are everywhere, they can’t die. At least I think they can’t. I don’t know for sure about that, but maybe they can’t. Can they die? I don’t know. But I want them to go away, I can’t stand them, help me. I hate every waking minute I spend around them, help me scare them off. They’re scary. I didn’t call on them, why did they appear? Why can’t they go away? Who are they? What are they? These things are everywhere.

This is a mistake. Explaining them to you was a mistake. Maybe you know them, maybe they’ve been haunting you longer than they’ve been terrorizing me. But maybe you don’t, and maybe knowing about them would lead them to you. And I shouldn’t let the thought of their existence bother anyone else, but what else could I do? I’m sorry for bringing this up. They forced me to do it. I apologize, again, I don’t want them to come for you too. I’m a victim of their terror. Don’t be like me. Forget everything I said.

Sounds familiar.

I opened my eyes and I saw a dark red sky. I didn’t wake up where I had gone to bed.


I tried to sit, but I can’t seem to control my body. I could feel the muscles at the end of my fingers twitch, but that was it. I can’t get up. I tried moving left and right, but to no avail, my body is stuck in this position. I can’t get any of my body parts to move, I could feel that I’m moving my right arm, but it isn’t moving, I could only feel the sensation of moving. I tried moving my left arm, then my legs, then my head; nothing.

Tired, I continued to look up at the sky. My eyes are wide open, scanning the sky, searching for something of any familiarity. There was nothing familiar about this place, I don’t know where this place is. All I know is the sky is red, the massive clouds look more like massive lumps of dust than clouds, and there is no sun to be found. Albeit, this place was glowing a reddish color. They seem to all come out of the sky just like that. If there was a sun, it’s shining from a very far place. This reddish glow is dimmer than the sunlight in my world. The glow resembles that of one of those old film washing rooms, but a lot brighter. I can’t even tell if this is day or night, maybe this place doesn’t have a cycle like that, maybe it’s just like this every passing second.


Every second passes by slowly. I can’t tell how much time had passed since I woke up. I can think clearly, I could make sense of things, but nothing makes sense right now. Everything looks so strange and unfamiliar. There’s a chance that I’m just dreaming right now, and everything I see is a world inside of my dream. A dream world? Maybe it is, but surely it’s not inside one of my dreams. I’ve never dreamed anything like this. I know my dream world, I know all the places in my dream world. I could recall images of my dream world inside of my mind. I’m sure this is not my dream world. This is something else.

I focused on the sky above me again. Nothing had changed. I don’t know how long I’ve been here, I don’t know how long since I last paid any attention to the sky, but nothing changed. It’s like looking at an abstract work of art, dark and reddish in color, and I guess they were all painted on to the sky by some kind of chaotic god that didn’t want any order; yet they seem to be bound together for some reason. I still can’t find the sun of this world, there is none. The earth I’m lying on is barren and rough, I could sense it. I’m absolutely sure that this place is dry and lifeless. I’m not even sure this place could sustain life, and if it could, the things that strive here are bound to be weird looking creatures. Since there’s not much to consume here, I guess they get their energy from somewhere else. Maybe the air, the dry-warm air, this place has lots of that; or maybe they absorb it from the reddish glow from the sky, sucking in all the dim ‘sunlight’ that they could get; or maybe they just don’t need energy, maybe they’re all just cute tiny creatures that eat some kind of mineral from the earth. That would be funny, a creature so futile living on a world so scary looking.


I laughed a bit when I imagined cute creatures lived off of this land. It doesn’t make sense. But right now, nothing does. Nothing makes sense.  I woke up somewhere I don’t know, lying on my back, looking into something dark and gloomy; and all this time I don’t know how long had passed since I woke up. My laugh wasn’t even a laugh. It felt like a laugh, but I didn’t open my mouth or made a sound, my body still couldn’t work; but my mind is okay. I’ve been thinking all this time without a problem. Then again, maybe that’s the problem. Maybe I need to stop thinking and just relax. My body is probably tired, and thinking too much won’t help it. I need to rest. Or else I’d be stuck here in this oblivion— forever.