Still of the Night

a writing by Grace Browning


Still of the Night


Yes, here we go with the night again.

Been in bed for quite some time now and it’s the holy hours of the early morning. I’m wide awake, flinching from the pain while subconsciously gnawing of what’s left of my nails. I’m feeling it as my mind ran berserk and I hesitantly succumbed and once again become a slave to all the terrors that kept shoving its sharp blade right in the middle of my heart. I can feel the ferocious yanking in a slow motion… up and down it goes poking deeper where it hurt most. But no matter how I fought this; it will never get tired of heckling me. I am beyond tired, I awfully want to sleep and I’m in dire need of peace. The thumping gets aggressively louder and it feels it’s going to explode my head into pieces. I grabbed my pillow and violently bit on it and screamed… Stop!!! Stop!!! Please, stop... I beg you!!!

Tears streaming down my face and no one will ever know the war I am fighting. And I’m sure no one wants to undergo what I am going through right now. It is right now where all I do is cry. Right now that I can’t sleep and can’t eat, I know all about time and wounds healing but even if I had all the time in the world, I still don’t know what to do with all this agonizing pain I am experiencing right now. My shelf-life has long been overdue for sure, why can’t you take me now God? Why do I have to wrestle the unthinkable at all times? It’s been like this for days, the day dreaming, the running in place… it is not healthy and it is provoking my sanity. It has to stop… I can’t do this anymore.

Footsteps halted me from my audible sniffles and the soft rapping at the door sent me onto my side and feigned sleep. A moment later, I felt moms hand on my forehead and at the same time asked me if I am hurting somewhere. If only it is easy to say…” yes mom, do you have pills to cure my ailing heart?” But I told her I am ok instead and she reluctantly left after which she firmly said to holler if I feel feverish (I always get fever when my nodes are pretty swollen and acting up, a sure sign of infection). Even cancer seemed trivial in comparison to what the real deal here. At least with cancer, you anticipate what will happen next after each treatment. You even know when the next gut-wrenching side effects will happen to make you haul out your insides. Sigh, how much can a person endure more?

With certainty, I pulled myself up from bed. Might as well confront your demons and make use of it. Who knows, it may retraced its steps back and be coward enough to fester you when you are at your weakest. I need to be courageous for once and I can’t think of a more constructive weapon but to write. This is the only power I have now. The strength which I hope and prayed will help me deal with these nightmares that went crumbling down and left me paralyzingly numb to the core. This is also the monsters which had me at a point where I would have left the entire world behind me.




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