It's the same, each and every night.
Glare at my screen with two big bloodshot eyes
Scott scowled at his computer screen, fighting the overwhelming urge to blink his eyes as it hurt every time he did so. He lost the battle eventually and blinked, causing a dull ach to shoot through his eyes. Cursing he pushed away from his computer desk and rubbed his stubble covered face. Things hadn't been all that easy since he was booted from Total Drama, even a year and a half later. He was living in a shitty apartment, working shitty hours at a shitty job and what was worse was-as of recently- sleep wasn't his friend. The insomnia had grown worse in the last two weeks and he couldn't understand why.
I'm stuck, self-torturing; my meds are failing me
Internal clock in smithereens, can't fix this I'm hopeless.
He leaned back in his chair and stared into the shadows. She was constantly on his mind these days, that's what was keeping him up; the tiny little moonchild with her big, gray blue eyes and platinum blond hair. She aggravated him to no end and he couldn't wait to get her off the island, going as far as to frame her for theft and turn everyone against her. At the time it had been a victory, but as Scott sat and stared into the three-thirty darkness, he wondered if, perhaps, it had been wrong of him. He glanced at his clock and frowned as the digits read 4:15. Had had been off by just under an hour and he cursed himself mentally.
My eyes are stapled open wide, as I lay down on my side
I am bouncing off these walls. As I focus on the clock
Time stands still but I cannot.
He knew he should be asleep by now, but he couldn't. He was lying diagonally across his bed, his arm thrown over his eyes; his sheets were a tangled heap at the foot of the bed and his pillow had long since fallen to the floor. He growled and climbed to his feet to pace the tiny room. His legs tingled and his mind whirled as his thoughts bounced back and forth. He had seen Dawn just days before when he had been on a smoke break. She looked slightly different yet entirely the same. Her hair had been cut short, just passed her jawline, and her blue eyes were unfocused. She had been wearing a long, floral patterned skirt with a baggy blue sweater. She had looked at him and frowned, her lips pulling into a thin line. All she said to him was,
"It's gotten darker," before she continued her walk down the street. He had stood, dumbfounded as he watched her disappear into a health-food store several buildings down and he was determined to wait for her and ask her what she meant. But his break had ended and he couldn't afford to get written up and ultimately lose his job. He really needed the cash.
Again he glanced at the clock, swallowing down a cry of rage when he realized the clock only read 4:45.
Notice my hand begin to twitch?
Unprovoked assaulting of my conscious wit.
He threw open the bedroom door and stalked into the equally as tiny and cluttered living room. He ran his fingers through his cropped, orange hair as he walked through the living room to the small kitchen at the front of the apartment. He opened the fridge, fingers drumming on the handle. The fridge was absolutely empty, with nothing but a bottle of hot mustard and an empty beer bottle. He slammed the door shut and rubbed his face, the muscles in his hand twitching slightly.
Me and the T.V are enemies; sickening static surrounds my mind
His brain was beginning to process things slowly and every thought he produced seemed fuzzy. It was like he was trying to watch T.V at his Pappy's house when there was a storm. The picture was mostly static and he tried to fix it but it never seemed to work. Ugh, his eyes burned from lack of sleep and he really needed a smoke. And since his building had a very strict "no smoking policy", he had no choice but to pull on his coat and to go stand in the freezing October night.
Talk to myself, lie in the darkness so content
As the sun begins to rise, I can barely shut my eyes
He stood outside his building for quite some time. The dark sky had begun to lighten to a dingy gray as he stood there, empty cigarette pack in his numb hand.
"Knowing that nature loving bitch, she was probably reading my aura again. Though I'm not sure how it can get any darker than it already is." He mumbled. Someone strolled down the street, hood up, shoulders hunched against the cold. He watched her as she walked, disappearing into the shadows. "There's someone who knows what it's like to be a miserable insomniac. Shit, we should have t-shirts made."
This crazed, delirious mess, laughing at everything I see
My sanity is spent; just tell me where my time went I'm losing it.
He chuckled to himself and shook his head, his quiet laughter soon becoming near hysterical as he tried to keep quiet. The thought of the girl walking down the street, alone, in the dark shouldn't have been funny, but Scott couldn't stop himself. What made him laugh harder was the thought of it being Dawn. The only reason it made him laugh was because he knew she would never be caught anywhere this far into civilization. He could feel eyes watching him from the gray shadows and this brought on a whole new wave of laughter. Great, now he was paranoid.
"Attention! All insomniacs please raise your right hand." He laughed. He began to stroll down the sidewalk, still chuckling at nothing and everything at the same time. Exhaustion fell heavily on him like a weight on his shoulders and he stumbled in the pre-dawn shadows. "Ha! Pre-dawn. I was just fine Pre-Dawn but I'm a psycho mess Post-Dawn." Though the crazed grin never left his face, Scott cursed himself and he cursed that girl. Whatever it was that was bothering him about her…it had to stop. He was sick of feeling like shit for some reason he wasn't even aware about.
He was sick of losing sleep over something that escaped him every time he tried to figure it out. He was tired as hell but he knew that sleep was not an option, not unless it was forced upon him.
His sleep-deprived eyes blinked closed as he stumbled down the street; and they were closed just long enough that Scott didn't see the car as it barreled toward him.
Dawn watched from the shadows as Scott met his end. The insomnia had really driven him to his death. The car didn't even bother stopping, it just kept driving, leaving Scott broken and bleeding in the street. Dawn shook her head and drew her hood again, her eyes glazed over. If only he had come to terms with the fact that his manipulative ways were wrong, even during a game, he would have been able to sleep.
Dawn knew that she should have told him the day she saw him. She should have told him that it was that simple. He just had to apologize to her and everything would have been fine. But when she saw him that day she was overcome by anger and she didn't bother sharing what she knew. She didn't care. And now the guilt would keep her awake, because she knew that as soon as she closed her eyes she would see his death and know it was her fault. All because she didn't tell him what she knew.
It was the insomnia that killed Scott, and now she knew that she would suffer as he had suffered. Sleep would become a fantasy that she would daydream about for the rest of her days.
I guess I'll sleep when I am dead.