Please read and review, if you wish. This is just a little something I wrote before I went to sleep. I, unlike Erik, found sleep with little effort.
"Sleep Deprived"
I cannot sleep.
It has been this way night after night for I'm not sure how long.
My mind will only rest easy when she occupies it, but I cannot let myself think of her, for my mind will unhinge! This new manner of thinking is surely better than wallowing in my mistake…
She was never a mistake.
Even if she hadn't chosen me or let her pure lips grace my accurséd ones, but instead clung to her precious de Chagny, she would not have been a mistake to me.
Never.
Ah, Christine. Such a name. A lovely name—one well deemed.
Its meaning is along the lines of "a Christian," they are.
How fitting.
"Christine," I murmured harmoniously, savoring the feel of her name upon my forsworn lips, "Christine."
Somewhere, within the confines of my mind, I hear myself sing to her, "Christine…"
I am taken back, against my will.
Yes, I remember.
But I do not wish to.
Images flashed through my mind—faces and scenes both good and bad, both wonderful and painful.
And voices…so many voices.
So many memories.
Miss Daaé could sing it…
Imagine me, trying too hard, to put you from my mind…
Little Lotte, let her mind wander…
Hide no longer, come to me strange angel…
Floating, falling, sweet intoxication…
Is this what you wanted to see…?!
Miss Daaé has returned…
You have not followed my instructions…
Behold, she is singing to bring down, the chandelier…!
Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime…
We can snare our clever friend…
Those who tangle with Don Juan…
Try to forgive, teach me to live, give me the strength to try…
When will the flames, at last, consume us…?
Track down this murderer, he must be found…
Sir, this is indeed, and unparallel delight…!
Have you no pity?
God give me courage to show you, you are not alone…
Go now, don't let them find you…!
Go now and leave me…!
Christine, I love you…
It's over now, the music of the night…
Such painful memories.
I close my eyes, fleeing to darkness.
Drowsiness consumes me.
A question—simple, confused, and grievous:
Dear God above, why does sleep come this way?
The manner with which I was answered is one I am accustomed to—it has been my life.
I was met with silence.
This silence only seems soothing when I am deprived of not just sleep, but pain. Pain brought on my memories.
Christian-like? Most certainly not! Christine-like? Indeed.
Sleep consumed me.
How cruel.