A thousand times goodnight – Romeo an Juliet – Short Story
It's pouring outside and I can't sleep.I have headaches all the time. I wake up with them. I've kind of given up on taking drugs like ibuprofen and Excedrin; I just live with them. I gave up on the drugs because they don't seem to do anything. The pain stays there in my head and I can't help but think that my body's becoming dependant on the drugs for some reason. I hate the idea of being dependant on drugs. I grew up with the idea in my brain that taking too many prescription drugs would make me dependant on them and once I became dependant I couldn't not take them. Now I have something else in my brain. It's not an idea or a new thought, it's a tumor. Actually I have really no reason other than the continuous headaches to believe that I really have a tumor. But still, I actually worry about that. Isn't that pathetic? I worry that the headaches will one day become too painful and so unbearable that I will have to get my head checked out. I know that when I finally drag myself into the doctor's office it will be too late and the tumor will have grown to the size of a golf ball and it will be too far gone to operate on. I feel like I know this. But even the fact that I know this doesn't make it any easier for me to justify going to the doctor for a headache. Everyone has headaches. But not like I have headaches.There are two things that make my headaches go away: sleeping and writing. Sleeping reduces my consciousness to nothing and I forget about my headaches. The irony is that the headaches make it hard to sleep. At night when I lie in bed the pillow seems like a stone and I just wait patiently for the nerves to shut down and my dreams to start up. Every night is like this. I lie there for hours, waiting. I dread the nights that I never fall asleep; the nights that I just lie there with my eyes closed thinking about the thumping in my head and whether or not it will ever stop. Have you ever been that miserable? During those nights I'd look at the clock and it would only be 12:02 a.m. Hours would go by with my head on that pillow made of rock until I would look at the clock again, hoping to God that daylight would be coming soon. You know that feeling? It's terrible. I look at the clock again and this time it says 1:43 a.m. The slowness of time along with the pounding in my head would cause me to cry. I'd sob quietly under my sheets so my roommate wouldn't wake up and ask me what was wrong. My head hurt worse when I cried, so I usually tried not to. But every now and then on the sleepless nights I wouldn't be able to control myself, so I would just cry.Those nights are always the worst of my nights. For the most part, however, after a few hours of rolling around in my bed trying to get comfortable I can slowly pass into a dream world. It's not really sleep; I couldn't really tell you exactly what it is but it happens quite often. I start having weird thoughts like I need to get up and do homework or that I need to get my roommate out of bed for some reason. I begin to talk and cry in my sleep for no reason. I'm growing used to these kinds of nights; at least the headaches are gone for a little. But wait, it gets stranger. Since I rarely ever get real sleep at night, the best sleep I have is during the day. It's strange because during the day I do not have the slightest control of keeping myself from sleeping. It's not like I'll be walking and all of the sudden I'll topple over and fall asleep for a few minutes, it's a lot stranger than that. I never have any recollection of how I fall asleep or where I was when I did. All I can remember is waking up. And the strangest thing is that I wake up in places and have no idea how I got there, why I was there, or sometimes, how to get back to where I was supposed to be. My life is incomplete. It truly is a dream world.When I actually do fall asleep, I always dream. Every time I wake up I have a dream to tell my roommate...
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