Shadows

Dear diary,

It's too loud to sleep, I guess. The silence is screaming at me from every direction. As I'm writing this I am having difficulty hearing my thoughts over the bedside clock. Tick...tick...tick.... it's 1:45 A.M. ugh! Now that I think of it, that's not exactly right either since my thoughts are drowning me, keeping me awake! Every ear shattering sound causes a new brain scattering thought. I wonder, why is it so loud when the lights go out?

I've not had a decent night's sleep in two days, so, I'm resorting to writing to you. Never have I kept a diary of my own but I feel compelled to catalog these sleepless hours. Maybe I'm missing some message written in these screaming walls and wailing floors. Maybe I'm just being dramatic and overthinking what is simply the result of high levels of caffeine. If I'm awake I might as well explore the first option. I'll save the second for the morning where I'll purge myself of the culprit. For now I'll try to listen. 

It's funny if you really think about it, diary. Even bleary eyed and exhausted to the bone I can find the humor in all this. I'm a mother for crying out loud, all we ever want is "peace and quiet"! Yet here I am lacking the so-called "peace" in this quiet. The noise of the day blocks the demons of the night. Really, squealing kids and a barking dog would be refreshing compared to the seething hate of self that seems to well up and out of the cracks in my brain. 

In the daylight hours of chirping birds and revving engines I can pretend I have my shit together, right now all I can hear are the millions of voices telling me I'm not good enough. The crickets outside my window are normally a welcome sound signaling spring and warm weather. Tonight they mock me, hiding by the cloak of darkness and gathering to laugh at me in a chorus of vicious leg rubbing. If there is a message to be heard, it has fallen on deaf ears. Thankfully writing in you has helped my eyes grow heavy so I am going to try and catch these z's.

Thanks for listening, 

Me.

Dear Diary,

Today makes day 3 unable to fall asleep. I gave up last night, I pulled myself into a false hope of sleep only to be disappointed when it never came. I just knew getting up and working all day would make a guarantee of knocking out as soon as I hit the pillow. Instead all i have to show are cracked and peeling hands that wear the scent of bleach like an exotic perfume. 

My husband is asleep beside me, his snores are like razors cutting deeper and deeper with every inhale and exhale. How dare he sleep so peacefully here beside me while I am up all but howling at the moon?! Ha! Howling at the moon! That would be something wouldn't it, wake the entire neighborhood up to howl at the moon. They would all think I've lost my mind. Shows what they know, I'm sleep deprived not a lunatic. 

It's still entirely too loud in the silence. Just now I could have sworn I heard footsteps coming down the hall but when I got up to check there was no one there. Just like that the thundering of heavy feet that were literally echoing off the walls stopped. Maybe it was just the blood rushing through my ears. It's almost as if I can make out voices behind the steady chop, chop, chop of the fan, almost. 

So I decided to steep myself in a bath filled with lavender. Lavender essential oils, dried lavender flowers and finished with a soothing lavender scented lotion. Wish me luck and empty thoughts. 

Thanks for listening,

Me

Dear Diary,

     Have you ever watched the dust motes floating in and out of the soft glow of a lamp or a bright moon beam spilling through the drapes? It's quite hypnotizing, they spin lazily on invisible currents of air. Swelling in the light and shrinking again as they lazily make their way into darkness again. I never really noticed how much dust collects until now. The clock face is coated in a sheen thick enough to draw in. I do just that as I check the time again, 1:55 I mark the time with a crooked smiley face. I haven't written in a few days, I think. It's all beginning to run together anyway. Today I went into the kitchen to make lunch for everyone and suddenly I'm upstairs in the office closet holding a knife! I have no sense of how long I was there or even why. I'm certain something was trying to snatch me away to that place I can hear but not see that haunts me every night. 

Dear Diary,

     I looked in the mirror today… it's almost as if my self is slowly seeping out my pores. What looked back at me was a shell that desperately needs a good meal and a horse tranquilizer. Tim looks at me like I frighten him and that is terrifying, did I tell you I tried to talk to him about the shadows on the wall? I tried telling him they are watching us, crawling and skittering away from the light up the walls. He laughed. 

     I write tonight illuminated by the glow of the lamp and several strategically placed candles. The shadows hate light, they can watch me from outside my protective golden hued shield. Their hungry gazes rake across me, their skittering movements highlighted by the silence. They whisper ugly things in harsh raspy voices. Horrendous things they can't wait to do to me. My skin crawls in response only making the whispers flow into repulsive laughter. 

     Jokes on you, you bastards! I managed to make it to the pharmacy after I attempted my talk with Tim. Tonight I WILL sleep! The pharmacist said this was the strongest sleep medicine without a prescription, the label says take two. I shake out four to be safe,swallow them dry. I have also armed myself with an extra strong breed cup of tea, a sleep blend. Already I feel relaxed just breathing in the steam. Oh God! It's delicious! Tonight I am going to sleep, chase the shadows back to hell or be drug down through the chambers with them. 

My cup is empty and the candles are guttering.

Wish me lu