The Insomnia

There are some people who attest that they do not remember their dreams, who have never known what it's like to awake screaming or half-insane or trembling from the aftershock of a nightmare . These are not necessarily simple-minded persons or happy persons or persons of stunted imaginations. But somehow they have retained a lifelong innocence, never knowing the dread some feel upon approaching the bedroom and facing that descent into the darkness of unknown worlds that may range from cartoonish absurdity to quaking horror. They are very lucky people. I wish I were one of them

--Thomas Ligotti, My Work is Not Yet Done 

 I have always been very particular about keeping my most painful thoughts safely tucked away, I honestly believe that I am at the point where I couldn't consciously allow myself to think them if it ever became necessary to do so.This is probably why they've always manifested as vivid nightmares and why I've learned to accept these nightmares as a permanent part of my sleeping life. If these thoughts have to be thought, I'd rather they were thought in the safe confines of my dreams, where no one can here my screams and they can(sometimes) easily be dismissed in the morning. And this also allows me to have a few seconds every day where I am so relieved that it was just a dream, that I forget(very briefly) how much pain and struggle is ahead of me on an average day. I barely think about them now, they're always the same in any case so what would be the point? The details of the dreams themselves don't matter(or they really do and I'm just too embarrassed to share them, it doesn't matter either way). Still, it's good.

Today I noticed that my desire for a (normal) family has all but dissipated. I don't know if it's spending weeks with an actual child or maybe I'm finally getting used to the idea of never having children, but I'm really okay with the whole thing. It did make me think of my ex and how he was always in such a rush to get married and have kids(which I'm pretty sure had nothing to do with me), I wanted so much to go along with the whole thing even though I was still trying to figure out what exactly was happening with my sexual orientation. It's a little frightening to think that I probably would've married him if he hadn't dumped me. Then again, if he hadn't dumped me, I wouldn't have turned into this pessimistic, amateur-at-best philosopher(I've only done one introductory course so far) and antinatalism would still be something I'd never even heard of. If there were a point to all this rambling, it would be that I am getting a little more comfortable slipping back into my earlier melancholia. After all, I spent most of my life miserable and alone and I still managed to function on a day-to-day basis (before S came along and made me realise how utterly unbearable my entire life was. Asshole), so I can certainly do it again. Until the next moderately convincing asshole enters my life just long enough to make me think they care about me before abruptly exiting when the lie gets out of control. Asshole. I should probably take notes this time so that it will be easier to find my way back the next time. I should probably also take a writing course so that my notes will be interesting enough for my future self to read. If she falls for this love shit again, I have a feeling her self-revulsion levels are going to be even higher than mine are, it's going to be nigh impossible to get her to read any of this.

“There are no means for escaping this world
It penetrates even into your sleep
and is its substance
You are caught in your own dreaming
where there is no space
And are held forever where there is no time
You can do nothing you are not told to do
There is no hope for escape from this dream
that was never yours
The very words you speak are only its very words
And you talk like a traitor
Under its incessant torture”

Seriously though, "Boys made me feel bad so I destroyed my life and then tried to kill myself"? I mean really. No wonder Dr Wilson laughed in my face.