I am currently editing and revising my ghost encounter, but while we await that. Here is an insomniacs rant and ramble:
It creeps in like an unwelcome guest. This feeling of isolation. It's unasked for and it bangs and bangs against the sanity of everything familiar and safe and secure. There isn't anyone to call or text or contact and so the night tick tock drags on and still sleep evades. Mr Sandman is a cruel bastard whose lack of presence leaves pacing tracks into carpet and sees fists flying against pillows.
It all began with the little things. First one change, and then another. A first excuse and then another. The change wears you down like teeth grinding together in the night of sleepers far away from here.
The carefully placed interlocking puzzle pieces shift, get lost and then there are simply stray pieces; flicked beneath couches, forgotten and collecting dust.
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