Cerebral

Welcome to the part of me that no one is allowed to see. Welcome to the mysterious fog of my subconscious. Welcome to the ground that no one would dare to tread if they knew what was in store. Welcome to the nightmare that I can never escape.

Subconscious. It sounds like such a delicate term. Gentle clouds floating just beyond the grasp of what the brain can comprehend. It’s such a benign term, and yet it is the sole word that describes my nemesis.

Of all the kinds of assault that exist, I think that the assault of a person’s own subconscious is the least known, yet the worst and most inescapable, kind of assault known to man. When the part of you who makes you who you are is constantly beating you down and warring against you, there is no escape. There is no protection. There is no mediator. There is no counselor. There is only pain and a lifetime of fearful anticipation of when it may strike next.

When I was young I used to dream of monsters and demons. I would dream so vividly that I could smell their foul breath and could feel their claws dig into my ankles as they grabbed me from beneath the basement stairs.

Today I am the monster. I am the demon. I’m the perpetrator of the assault, and I’m also the victim.

It’s been about a month or so since I’ve had a decent sleep. I partially lied when I said I “couldn’t” sleep. Sometimes I can’t sleep even when I want to and yet most of the time I try not to sleep. I know I’ll regret it the next day. I know it’s very likely that I could fall asleep while I’m at work and drive my truck into an overpass. But when I’m laying in bed and I know what is most likely coming, it all seems like a much kinder fate.

There’ve been a few nights in the past month when the dreams have been pleasant or nice. There was a time or two when I wanted to say what I really dreamed, but I lied and said I dreamed about something nice instead.

Almost every night it’s the same. My subconscious picks the worst way of the day for me to lose you and that becomes the theme of the visions that attack me while I sleep. Almost every night, without fail, my worst fear becomes a reality. Every night I’m driven to face the unthinkable. Every night I teeter on the edge of insanity, wondering whether or not to survive until the next morning.

Sleep got the best of me tonight. I tried to stay awake. I tried to just get through a meal and watch a movie, but the Sandman came despite my best efforts.

Yeah, and my fucking coffee maker broke.

Not gonna go into details on what went on in the dream, but I woke up and my hand was burning. My arm was hanging over the edge of the couch. I think I punched the floor. Concrete is nice since it doesn’t creak at all, but it sucks if you punch it in your sleep.

I really don’t know what to think. I don’t know if my brain really is just fucked up or if I really have a reason to worry. Perhaps my mind is just full of shit and everything will work out and be perfect someday. Then again, maybe my subconscious is just trying to warn or prepare me.

I seriously fucking hate this.

I can’t make it stop. I’ve tried all of the “good” ways. I’ve tried thinking happy thoughts, I’ve tried listening to happy music, I’ve tried to put myself in situations where bad things wouldn’t pop into my head. Yet nothing has worked.

Since I’m spilling it all here, I’ve tried cutting a few times too.

The first time was really strange. Like running into an ex-girlfriend from years ago. Yet it was strangely calming even if it didn’t rid me of the thoughts. Maybe it was just my way of punishing my body back for the mental assault it waged on me.

Tonight though, I said, “Fuck it all.” I ran to the liquor store.

One nice thing about passing out drunk is that I don’t recall ever dreaming. Not once. I can’t say that I’m really intending to pass out drunk…but hey, whatever works.

If nothing else, it’s helped me get this much out. Now it’s not a secret anymore. Maybe that’s a good thing, maybe it’s not. But there’s no way I would’ve even talked about this if I wasn’t good and liquored up.

This isn’t your fault, this is mine. This is my battle. This is my own internal war.

I wish I knew how to win.

I wish I was ok. I wish I was fine. I wish everything was fine. I wish I could promise that it will be. I wish we could heal and get over whatever it is that has us bound in chains that we somehow can’t break from.

I wish wishes came true.

Guess all I can do is hope that the worst doesn’t come to pass, because I’ve seen it and it sucks.

*
“So I’ve betrayed self
So I’ve betrayed you
So what now?
So what do we do?
*
Pushing you away
Away from me
*
So I’m, I’m confused
So you’re not amused
So I’m feeling used
So what do we do?
*
Empty inside
I’m dying, I’m crying
She makes me bad
Betrays my head
Empty inside
I’m dying, I’m crying
She makes me bad.”
*
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