死にたがり

When I first started receding from everybody, I slept a lot. I didn't think anything else mattered. Usually I didn't have dreams, but sometimes I had nightmares. I would just sleep and sleep and sleep just so I would have a purpose again, or just so I didn't have to eat, or drink, or leave my apartment. 

I didn't have friends, or a family, but I had my bird and so I forced myself to get up each day and feed her. Eventually she pulled me out of my depression, because every time I tried to sleep she would screech until I got out of bed and did something else.

My dreams weren't lucid like Madotsuki's. They weren't subconcious re-imaginings of my tortured past. Whenever I would sleep I just felt. Numb. And my dreams were numb, and bleak, and boring.

When I had nightmares, maybe once or twice a month after the incident, but the days following it exactly I probably had them constantly- always the same nightmare, too- I would wake myself up and not sleep again for a few days. 

That was about a year ago.

I don't get nightmares, or dreams, or even sleep that often now. I'm usually up and cleaning, or doing homework, or on the internet. 

I like things better this way. 

I've thought about suicide before, but I know I'll never do it because I'm too scared.