“A friend recently asked me why I wasn’t sleeping anymore. Every reason that I could think of sounded pathetic, even to me. I couldn’t explain why the thought of sleeping, of dreaming, makes my heart ache, why I instinctively shy away from even thinking about it. In the end, I gave some blanket excuse about insomnia, though I knew it was only part of the truth. I struggled with it for days; how do I put into words the apprehension sleep invokes in me? It finally occurred to me today: dreams are fleeting, they end and then you wake up to a reality that is nothing like how you want it to be. Dreams only foster false hope; consciousness is a brutal reminder that my dreams are not real and you are not here.”
— I can always lie to myself while I’m awake.
