01:33АМ

It’s day eight of my reality show called “try to sleep, loser”.

Spoiler: I’m not winning. At best, I get 10–40 minutes of sleep more like dozing off with a side of despair. I fall asleep, wake up, and think “oh nooo”

I’ve seen better plotlines in soap operas…

My body’s in panic mode, my brain feels like bad Wi-Fi.
Conversations are a mess like I’m translating myself from Martian to English via a broken Google Translate. Thoughts crawl, words vanish, and my mind hums like a ceiling fan in a blackout…

Apathy has set in like a dead battery. Anxiety’s still around too — like that annoying neighbor who keeps knocking: “Hey Valeryia just checking if you’re suffering enough”

Sometimes I feel like a side character in someone’s depressing novel.
Even my cats are suspicious. I think they’re about to evict me 🥹

My whole body is tight, especially my jaw. I’m basically a chew toy made of tension and existential dread.
My head hurts like it’s trying to birth some forgotten god of anxious overthinking.

Sleeping pills? Nice idea. Might as well use the box as a prop in a play called “false hope”.

None of them worked.

So here I am writing this to remind myself I still exist and haven’t fully dissolved into sleep-deprived smoke.

If you’re also not sleeping, suffering, or laughing through the chaos — hey, you’re not alone. We are the sleepless army. We’ve got dark circles, but maybe a little light left in the soul. On a good day.