#FictionFriday

#FictionFriday: Broken people and their lack of sleep.

The world is full of broken people. Take me, for example. I can’t remember when I last enjoyed my sleep. Wait, I think I can. Wait, on second thought I don’t remember. My memories are broken. Things I’ve remembered have been altered one too many times, from lies I told myself or from things I refuse to comprehend. Either way, we are all broken. Damaged. Beyond the point of repair.

It’s been days since I’ve enjoyed my sleep. Sleep is for the weak, I said. Sleep is a privilege I do not have. The alarm was blasting, actually I’m not sure, all sounds seem to magnify when you close your eyes. It’s the thing that people said, when one sense is off, the other magnifies its ability. I fumbled around with my left hand, trying to locate where my phone was, intent on turning off the alarm and to see how long had passed since I last snooze the alarm.

Fifteen minutes have passed. Seemed like an hour. I weight my option, do I just skip work altogether knowing that I wouldn’t have anything better to do anyway, or try as I might so as not to be late at work, pretend that life has not been altered and moved from its axis? Best to just get a shower first. Thinking with a clean hair and body, not to mention minty fresh breath, seems like a condition I would rather be in than bleary eyed with horrible bed hair, that I am right now.

I stood in front of the mirror, trying to convince myself I look clean enough for today. But, who am I kidding? My hair might be wet, my face may looked fresh, but that dead look in my eyes screams, “I NEED MORE SLEEP!” I shrugged to no one in particular, except at my own reflection. I didn’t think much about what I’m doing, it was until I finished dressing myself up that I realised that it seems to be that I am going to work today. Oh, well, sleep is for the weak anyway, or so I seem to think.


The world is full of people haunted by their past, present, and future. What am I haunted with? Truth. I am haunted by the truth lurking behind my youthful mistakes. Youth feels like eons ago, but in all honesty it was merely five months ago. The truth is that obnoxious kid on a Halloween that constantly knocks on your door screaming, “trick or treat,” even though you’ve clearly screamed back, “go away!”

I tossed and turned in my sleep, or lack thereof. I closed and I opened my eyes, sighing at my lack of sleep. I stumbled in the dark for a cup of tea, hoping it’ll calm whatever raging storm inside me, and leave my body to sleep. I go in and out of white noise playlist, thinking it’ll bring me sleep, just like what they said on those health magazines. I chastised myself for my lack of self control as I fumbled for my phones and go through the repetitive routine of reading whatever it was on the internet. It’s easier to think that someone else half across the world is having a much more shitty day than you are.

I tried to feel sorry, but honestly, who cares about other people? I certainly don’t. I just want to go to sleep. But, sleep won’t come. And so, I repeat the spell and try to convince myself that sleep is only for the weak.


The world is full with the likes of you and me. Those who wander day in and day out, thinking of ways to survive another day without an ounce of sleep in them. You would think that after 35 years lurking about I would have figured out at what point does my life went wrong and figured out the best way to fix it, but of course who has the time to dissect each and every youthful mistakes one has commit in their lifetime? I certainly don’t.

The tick tock of the clock is echoing through the hollow walls of my home. My home? My house? What’s the difference? I’ll be damned if I know. I think I ought to sleep now, but as per usual my eyes refuse to close, my mind refuse to stop producing chain of thoughts, and this is quite new but now I feel like my back is protesting against this old creaking bed. Hmm, maybe I should get a new bed? Oh, well there goes another thought to occupy my mind.


Jakarta, 2 June 2017

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