Maybe next time

Where to begin?

Today, (3:51) for the first time, I really start to consider a probable solution for my on-going problem. (Insomnia) I never even toy with the idea before, but months of not being able to sleep at night and being drawn to bed at dawn forced me to think the unthinkable.

As long as I can remember, I have this strange bond with the night. I could be dead tired working whole day, but when the sun goes down, I feel re-charged! Energetic! As if there is some electric current running through my body. I feel excited, euphoric, alive and almost happy!

When it gets dark, I feel so different, like I suddenly possess some extra senses and the other five are working much, much keener, sharper, stronger. It makes me restless. I want per se to move, to do something, to channel energy and whatever it is that is happening to me. I started taking long walks at an early age, later, it manifested in different strange ways and habits; like hanging around videokes, doing graveyard shifts, combing the whole areas for fiestas, outdoors parties for no matter how recluse or introvert I am, I cannot be confined. I hate discos and closed places. I need to be in the middle of the people in open areas, I need space!

What I did  when I was younger was organized get together in strange places in the middle of the night, like playing spirit of the glass in town cemetery, breaking in empty houses, sitting on the roof of some school building watching the moon, sleeping in churches, and spending nights in catastrophe areas. I remember when a whole subdivision collapsed due to some engineering faults, the place looks like some ghost town but to me it looks beautiful! I did everything in my power to be able to get in there even though the place was heavily guarded. We spent few nights there, me and a group of young kids. Till some few years ago I always surrounded myself with pretty, young people. I like them around me. I fed on their innocence, energy, enthusiasm and zest. They inspired me and heal my wandering soul in some ways.


When I get older and circumstances rendered me almost prisoner, I turned to books, and later in writing. I often let myself be locked in, in a library or museum. The time I spent there was one of the few happiest moments in my life. I felt like a kid in a candy/toy store.

When situations unable me to continue my odd nocturnal habits, I contented myself by redecorating my house or rearranging furniture in the middle of the night till dawn. Of course it wasn’t the same, but I’ve got to do something, anything. In worse cases, I sorted out my closet and watched old films. Very degrading.

Today, lying next to D. I think the unthinkable; what if I give in to inevitable? What if I taste blood? Before, I would not even consider it, I thought the idea would repulse me, but no, it was… tempting. I closed my eyes and imagine a warm blood sliding across my tongue through my throat, the thought is sort of inviting, exciting even. I could almost taste the fluid, and contrary to what I expected, it brought smile on my face.

I reached out and touched D.’s warm body, it felt good! I looked at his neck and felt the main artery underneath, it pulsed and throbbed  under my fingers, I thought… would I like the taste? Would it be liberating? Will I find my true calling? Could it ease my nerves? Can it cure my restlessness and insane wanderings?

I removed my hand from his neck reluctantly saying to myself: “Maybe next time. Maybe next time…”