Going Under

Sleep is like a drug. It is a narcotic. It takes away the pain, makes the misery stop. It allows the world to be forgotten, reality to be abandoned, misery set aside. In sleep, nothing matters anymore, it is a break from life and a much-needed abandonment of thought.

So when I woke up this morning, when I looked up and saw the light streaming in through my window, I knew that I was back to reality. And I didn't want to be. Because reality means pain, suffering, misery, agony. Reality means having to deal with things again...and that was the last thing I wanted. So I resorted back to my drug of choice, I let myself go back to not feeling, decided to shove life aside and go back to the blissful unawareness of sleep. I found a refuge separate from the hell of life in my restful sleep.

I threw away what sorrows I had. I fell back to the influences of narcotic relaxation. I may not have been under the influence of any true drugs, but I was no more a part of reality than if I had been. I needed to get away, and the only thing I could do was submerge myself back in sleep.

Sometimes that's the only way to deal. Sometimes all that can be done is getting away from the truth. Because some things hurt too much, some realities cut too deeply, and some agonies break people in two...and what good is it to be shattered, broken, hurt throughout all of life? That's when the only thing to do is not deal with it, but get away from it.

That's what sleep is for. It gets rid of the pain, if only for a few hours a day. It is sometimes the most anticipated portion of the day, the time when all can be forgotten. Sometimes, life doesn't work. Sometimes, the hell is just too great to bear. And then, the only option becomes escape.