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Insomnia

I stagnated, in a lucid torpor. It is the drowsiness and fatigue that have never truly become sleep nor slumber.

Insomnia, like an exaggerated, grotesque non-being, an intangible torturer, lurked in the sinister shadows of the night.

The prolonged, waking consciousness during the silent passing of time became a grievously suffered curse, as they say that sleep deprivation is one of the most unspeakably inhuman methods of torture.

During these moments of unbearably tormenting wakefulness, a maddening anxiety and disquietude enveloped my consciousness; an enormous physical discomfort crawled all over my body; a heaviness weighed upon my chest; a restlessness spread over my soul. My muscles felt tense and started to sore; my heart palpitated painstakingly; my dry eyes stared at the empty ceiling in utter frustration and helplessness. Self-hatred and rancorous self-reproach were closing in on me, with their relentless interrogation on the things I had not accomplished during the day because of inert inaction, and the time I had wasted in absolute uselessness. I became paralyzed under such unremitting self-interrogation, not even capable of tossing and turning. I realised that my entire being was worthless, and it was not even worthwhile to realise my worthlessness.

I was like a solitary blind ghost, cloistered within the darkly visible prison walls, haunted by the internal screams of not being able to escape from myself.

Reality, abhorrent and loathsome, bloomed like a monstrous flower, slowly and secretly secreting madness and insanity. The arid anguish of my interior life filled the dark atmosphere with a petrifying horror, and painted everything with a livid, nauseating whiteness. Alas – the detestable banality of quotidian living, the ennui of existence – all conceived by this deplorably impoverished mind.

The nocturnal silence was more oppressive than ever. It repelled. It unfolded before me sheer, absolute nothingness. Nothing spoke in the dark, not even remote whispers, distant murmurs, or murky echoes of dead voices. Nothing was slithering in the dark either, not even phantoms or spectres. A complete absence predominated. The deathly stillness of time, in which my agony became everything there was and at the same time nothing there to be, and I became the only one that ever mattered and at the same time absolutely insignificant and inconsequential. I came face to face with the abyss, falling, in absolute solitude, to the bottom of a bottomless depression.

My body was lethargic, and my mind was weary. I was like a raving maniac, unable to stop thinking, circling in a chaotic whirlpool of ineffable nonsense. Meaning began to disintegrate; order began to disappear; clarity became unachievable. Repetitive words, disjointed sentences and unintelligible thoughts had pushed me to the edge of reality where the boundary between the real and unreal started to blur. Illnesses, incurable, had altered the physiognomy of my brain categorically and irrevocably. Normality had thus become a total stranger. There would always be darkened glasses of psychopathology standing between me and life.

I desperately wanted to sleep, to black out, to become unconscious, to fall into a coma. Yet I sigh resignedly over the futility of any effort to fall into sleep, over the weariness of having to live tomorrow and possibly endure another torture inflicted by the same insomnia.

Or perhaps I had never suffered from insomnia, perhaps I’d been asleep the entire time, because my life itself was one enormous nightmare I could not awake from. But could one nightmare last for seven years?

2022/12/10-12/14

失眠

我停滞了，陷入了清醒的麻木状态。这是一种从未真正成为睡眠或梦寐的困倦与疲惫。

失眠，像一个夸张、怪诞的非存在，一个无形的折磨者，潜伏在黑夜的阴影里。

在无声流逝的时间里，持续的清醒意识成为了一种痛苦的诅咒。有人说，睡眠剥夺是最难以言喻的非人道的折磨之一。

在这些难以忍受的清醒煎熬时刻，一种疯狂的焦虑和不安笼罩着我的意识；一种巨大的身体不适爬满我的全身；一种沉重压迫着我的胸腔；一种不安蔓延在我的灵魂。我的肌肉感到紧绷并开始疼痛；我的心脏痛苦地悸动；我干涩的眼睛沮丧而无助地盯着空荡的天花板。自我厌恶与怨恨自责正在逼近我，无情地审问我白天由于迟钝无为而未完成的事，以及在绝对无用中浪费的时间。在这种毫不停歇的自我审问下，我的身体陷入了瘫痪，甚至无法翻身。我意识到我的整个存在毫无价值，甚至连意识到自己的毫无价值也毫无价值。

我就像一个孤独的盲眼幽灵，被困在昏暗的监狱之墙中，饱受着无法逃离自我的内心尖叫。

现实，可憎又可恶，如一朵怪异的花绽放，悄悄地、秘密地分泌出疯狂。我内在生活的干涸与痛苦使黑暗的空气中充满了令人石化的恐怖，将一切都涂上了一种苍白的、令人作呕的白色。唉——日常生活可憎的平淡无奇、存在的倦怠乏味——这一切都由这可悲又贫瘠的心灵所构建。

夜晚的寂静比以往任何时刻都更具有压迫性。它排斥一切。在我面前展开的是纯粹的空无。黑暗中没有任何声音，即使是微弱的呢喃、遥远的低语，抑或是朦胧模糊的死者之声。黑暗中也没有任何东西在蠕动，甚至没有幽灵或幻影。完全的缺席主导着一切。时间的死寂中，我的痛苦成为了所有的存在，同时又没有任何存在可言；我成为了唯一重要的人，同时又是绝对的微不足道和无关紧要。我与深渊面对面了，在绝对的孤独中坠落，陷入到了抑郁无底的底部。

我的身体疲惫，我的思维厌倦。我像一个疯狂的疯子，无法停止思考，在一个混乱的漩涡里打转，充满难以言喻的胡言乱语。意义开始崩溃；秩序开始消失；清晰变得不可企及。重复的词语、支离破碎的句子和难以理解的思绪把我推向现实的边缘，那里，现实和虚幻的边界开始模糊。不可治愈的疾病已经彻底地、不可挽回地改变了我大脑的样貌。“正常”已成为了一个完全陌生的存在。在我和生活之间，总是竖着一面精神病理学的黑镜。

我近乎绝望地渴望睡眠、进入黑暗、失去知觉、陷入昏迷。然而，对于努力入睡的徒劳，我只能无奈地叹息；对于需要再活一天，并且可能再次忍受由失眠所带来的折磨，我感到无比厌倦。

又或许我从未患过失眠，也许我一直睡着，因为我的生活本身就是一场无法从中醒来的巨大噩梦。但是一个噩梦能持续七年吗？

2022/12/10-12/14

“Insomnia - A Nightmare”

“Insomnia - A Nightmare”

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