The Night Walkers


Dark thoughts engulf my being as my will grows weak; I am tired but I can’t sleep. I am hungry, but I can’t eat. My essence has been taken away from me; I no longer know who I am. Fear has infused itself in me; I have lost my identity. Anxiety has rendered me listless; it has consumed my energy. Falling and falling; In a deep pit I am falling perpetually. The sun doesn’t shine here. The moon has turned to blood. Floods of illness chase me. They want to test my resolve. Am I loved? Am I secured? I laugh with madness at the blatant absurdity of the questions that seem to follow me. It is my own thoughts that haunt me. Plaguing me day after day like a wretched virus. “Go away, go away, don’t come back another day,” I say, but they never leave. Despair has been like an unwanted friend who has overstayed his welcome. Insomnia has forced me to stay up with him because misery loves company. The lack of sleep has diminished my every step. The days wane, and I have become a creature of the night. In zombie like state, stumbling around on dark streets, seeking hope in dark corners or at least some type of slight reprieve. Other night walkers pass by as we stare at each other with eyes of melancholy. Our eyes widen and illuminate in the dark, as a trail of anguish fades behind us. We are the creatures of the night; the night walkers who convey our stories of pain with a look into the eyes, but we never speak. In silence we walk. At 4am listen closely for the faint shuffling of feet.

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