Bone collector and space lover.

A 7 dollar bottle of Bengay.

They don't sleep because they want to. They sleep when they are forced to. They sleep when the combined weight of fear, anxiety, and exhaustion becomes too much for their frail minds to handle, some more frail than others. They sleep when their body and mind, when their being, opts to give up on trudging them along their time line. They sleep when they physically can no longer bear to be awake. Why? Because exhaustion is nothing compared to their midnight terrors. The ones that never end. The ones that scratch at the inside of their skulls. And the worst part, is that they feel real. The blood on their hands, the guilt in their hearts, the noose around their neck, it all feels real. So real that when they wake up drenched in sweat and sorrow, their mind questions the likeness of their true reality. Insomniacs would much rather face sleep deprivation than risk loosing their grip on reality to one of many tragic nightmares. 

i could spend my entire life drawing monsters 

just let me drown in my puddle of soggy sorrow