“Tania sleeps with her eyes open, tears making them wet, staring at the ceiling with a myriad of thoughts running through her mind. “This isn’t sleeping. This is torture.” She gets up, ties her hair into a bun, and slides back into her blanket, trying again to welcome some sleep in her life. Doesn’t work. She texts Mamnoor, Can’t sleep. Entertain me. Of course, Mamnoor doesn’t reply immediately, so she puts her phone down, and tries again, to welcome sleep. Shuffling, fidgeting, fighting with her own thoughts, Tania gives up, gets out of bed, and reaches for her drawer. “Where are they?” None of the drawers had it. A frantic search lead her to remember she kept them high up on the top shelf of her closet, so that she couldn’t reach it. “But desperate measures call for desperate times. Oh wait, it’s the other way round. You know what, I can’t.” Once again, Tania’s purpose has been defeated by none other than, Tania herself. The pill has been popped, and the guilt has resided back; sleep is just on its way.”
The Story Behind The Original Image:
My Father has been prescribed this medicine, and it so happens that I grab some when I need, without him noticing. The other day he did notice, and didn’t bother me with any questions. Needless to say, I inherited his anxious and insomniac tendencies, but my Dad, he checks on me all the time but knows when to leave me alone. I’ve never heard him cry, but I wonder how he feels when he hears his daughter weep at night, standing next to her door and not opening it.