My First Short Story — Every Night

Preamble

For a long time, my problem has been starting something and not finishing it. I have (what I think is) a good idea, work on it for a few weeks, lose confidence in it and then just give up entirely.

I’ve been repeating this cycle for 10 years now. I started a novel, mapped the whole thing out, wrote a few chapters and then lost confidence in the idea and my ability to execute it. I told myself that even if I could write it, nobody would want to read it anyway. I know lots of people feel this way about their creative efforts.

This blog is my attempt at breaking that cycle. I’m trying to create a self-defined sense of fulfilment from creativity. When I think about creativity and where it comes from, for me it is often linked to daydreaming or, in a more toxic sense, the stories my mind tells itself. This often manifests in an ability to sleep as I create ever more complex situations in my own mind. This story is an attempt to break that cycle, thus making it the perfect first short story for me to publish on this blog. Writing it down helped me handle the problems I have sleep and finishing it, and publishing it, is helping me break the cycle of never finishing things.

I hope you enjoy it. Let me know what you thought in a comment or, if this is something you struggle with, tell me how you like to deal with it. Here goes…

Trigger warning: The following content contains references that may be triggering for some people, including:
-depression
-suicidal ideation
-insomnia

Every Night

Shit who are the other members of Queen? Obviously Freddie but who are the others? The guitarist is famous, he’s still kicking about doing shit. What is his name? And the drummer, Roger… Daltry? Taylor? I think it’s Taylor. I don’t think I ever knew the bassist’s name even though I watched that rubbish film. I hope I remember to look this up in the morning.

Eurgh, the morning — what time is it? No, don’t look, the light will keep you awake for even longer. OK stop. Deep breaths. Do the breathing exercise. What is it again? You imagine three chambers in your lungs filling up, bottom to top, and then emptying, top to bottom.

Remember to visualize it going in and out, that normally helps. Except I always end up focusing on whether what I’m visualizing is the best way of visualising it. And if it’s too visual then it leads me off on different tangents. So I need to visualise it but visualise it as nothing. So maybe it should just be like a vapour or smoke or something. OK, try and visualise that:

In the bottom chamber,

middle chamber,

top chamber,

out the top chamber,

middle chamber,

bottom chamber.

Does it matter that I’m still kind of visualising it as an actual chamber with tubes and walls? Surely not if it’s quite simple and I’m not focusing in on it. I think it would have to be just like three segments but there aren’t borders — you can just kind of see them under the smoky vapour stuff. In a vacuum. Yeah, in a vacuum. OK let’s try that.

In the bottom chamber,

middle chamber,

top chamber,

out the top chamber,

middle chamber,

bottom chamber.

In the bottom chamber,

middle chamber,

top chamber,

out the top chamber,

middle chamber,

bottom chamber.

Hmm I keep putting walls around the chambers. I decided no walls. Ah for fuck sake. Now I’m focusing in on it. This is ridiculous. I need to sleep. I need to be ready for tomorrow. Why does this happen every night?

What time is it now anyway? Do I look or will the light keep me up for longer? Why do they make them like that anyway? Ridiculous. I really need to change that setting — J said it was easy. I always forget to take their advice on things like this. Does that mean I don’t trust them? Is that reflective of how I am in the relationship? Oh fuck, don’t go down this rabbit hole. Fuck it, what’s the time?

01:00

Jesus. Four hours until I have to get up. Tomorrow is going to be a nightmare. Every fucking time. Every night. Right, try the breathing thing again. Focus this time. Is focusing good? Or should I try not to focus? Just kind of, do it? Just breathe.

In the bottom chamber,

middle chamber,

four fucking hours. Can’t believe it. Why do I always self-sabotage like this? I’ve got four fucking hours to sleep and my stupid brain just led me to deeply question my suitability to be in a relationship with J. What kind of dumb shit is that? I was trying to focus on getting to sleep and that’s where I end up.

That has to be the sign of a toxic personality. Rather than allow myself to focus on what I need to do, I question the things that are most important to me. Does that mean I’m unsure of the things that are important to me? Or that I’m insecure about my inner self? I always thought of asking deep questions as a positive thing about myself but now I’ve gone too far down that path — it’s ruining my life.

Fuck

But hang, my life isn’t ruined is it? It’s alright. I have a home that I can afford to live in — even if it means I can barely afford to do anything else. I have a caring family, a partner I love and who loves me, a job that, actually, could be a lot worse. So, why am I unable to sleep and questioning everything? How can I possibly be unsatisfied with what I’ve got?

And it’s not like I’m resting on my laurels — I’m actively trying to progress. I eat well, exercise, meditate, I’m learning French, I read a lot, listen to interesting podcasts and I’m pursuing creative endeavours. My life is actually great — I’m doing loads. But then, I did loads today and I can’t fucking sleep. Even when I do everything that’s supposed to make you tired and prepare you for a good sleep, I can’t fucking sleep.

I did everything right today. I stopped looking at my phone at 9. I had dim lights. I had camomile tea. I read a boring book. I exercised. I ate well. I didn’t have coffee after 12. I worked a long day. I tried to reduce my time on social media but come on, the world is so fucked up right now and I need to keep up. I had sex. I even practiced French and did some writing.

I followed all the instructions and I’m still lying here at what, 01:28 now. Shit, how was that 28 minutes? That’s insane. How does time do that? So now I have to be up in three hours, 32 minutes.

Why does this happen every night? Is this insomnia? Or depression? I don’t even know what those words mean anymore. They’ve become so congealed onto normal life. When you live in a cycle of depression you can’t separate toxic behaviour from good intentions. What happens when self-care becomes self-destruction? What is ‘depressive behaviour’ and how is it distinct from my normal personality?

Anyway, this is all pointless to think about now if I’m not writing it down and I’m not going to get up and write it down when I need to be up in three hours and a half hours. Also I’m too lazy. I just want to sleep. Just to have a break for a few hours. I have to have this same conversation with myself again tomorrow and I just want a little break from it. That’s all I want.

Is that a suicidal thought? I don’t think it means I want to kill myself, but if all I want is a break from the inside of my head that’s probably not a sign of a healthy mental state. The logical end-point of wanting a break from your own mind is suicide, right?

So is that thought pattern an early stop on the neural road to suicide? Is that an example on the spectrum of how suicide leads to depression? Am I actually learning things about myself or do I just think I’m really smart for figuring out something like that? Did I even figure anything out? I have no fucking clue. All I know is I can’t sleep and that half my problems are caused by lack of sleep.

So forget this faux-psychology bullshit. You’re only having these thoughts because it’s, wow, 01:58 now. So if I can sort out my sleep, I won’t have to worry. I mean, I will, but it will be one less thing to worry about. And less time to worry about it. Win-win.

It’s so obvious. And yet I self-sabotage and deliberately create crazy thoughts so I can’t sleep — can’t solve my problems. Jesus what does that say about me? What a fucking pathetic thing to do: identify your problem and then deliberately fuck up the solution. What a cowardly thing to do. To tell yourself you want to be better in life and then deliberately not allow yourself to improve. Maybe that is depression? Or something worse?

Oh for fuck sake. How did I get here? It’s now, what, 02:13? Course it fucking is. Every night I look at 02:13. How does that happen? Is there something important in my life relating to 02:13? I’m pretty sure that’s not the time I was born. Or is that the time I’ll die? Did something traumatic happen to me at that time? I don’t even believe it this stuff. Some new age bullshit. I’m not even sure if it’s a thing. Sounds like a new Final Destination film.

Maybe I should write it? Start with something mainstream to get an audience and then wow them with my intellectual analysis in the next creation. I can’t believe I just thought that. I’m a fucking dickhead. Who do I think I am? I just about managed to scrape through my degree and I’m lying in bed thinking about how I’m going to wow people with my intellectual analysis. That, ironically, is the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard. But if I never try then I’ll never know right?

I don’t even know how to begin to go about trying. Apart from just writing shit down. Where do I go from there? It’s not like I’m going to do it now anyway — I’m trying to get to sleep. If I get up and start writing stuff down it will mess with my sleeping pattern even more and I’ll be even less useful in the hours I am awake. If I could actually sleep at night then I’d probably be able to spend more time doing useful shit during the day. It’s a vicious cycle. Self-care or self-destruction?

Fuck that.

Jesus, look where I’ve ended up. I truly hate myself. Tomorrow is gonna be a write-off. I need to focus on my breathing. I need to reset my circadian rhythm. Get into a good pattern. Maybe getting up so early will mean I’m more tired tomorrow so I can get an extra early night and start making that a habit.

Fuck sake — I’ve thought that a million times before and it never works. Speaking of things that are supposed to work, I haven’t tried focusing on my breath for ages now. Haven’t even been trying to get to sleep. Just let myself go. Such a dickhead.

Go back to the vapour chambers. Hey that sounds cool: vapour chambers. That would be a good name for a band. Or a bar. No, that would be terrible: vapour chambers. Jesus that’s bad. What is wrong with me? Shit, I immediately invent a new reason to make myself angry!

OK.

Stop.

Breathe.

In the bottom chamber,

middle chamber,

top chamber,

I always end up fucking having a go at myself,

out the top chamber,

middle chamber,

bottom chamber.

In the bottom chamber,

middle chamber,

top chamber,

out the top chamber,

middle chamber,

bottom chamber.

In the bottom chamber,

middle chamber,

top chamber,

out the bottom,

shit,

top chamber,

uh middle chamber,

top chamber,

fuck,

bottom chamber.

In the bottom chamber,

middle chamber,

top chamber,

out the top chamber,

middle chamber,

bottom chamber.

This isn’t going to work tonight is it? I’m more awake than ever and I’ve got to be up in what, now? 2 hours and 8 minutes. Great. I’ve got to stop getting angry with myself. That’s the only way to move forward now. That’s become the main thing keeping me awake.

If I’m going to lie here awake, I should at least relax a bit and try to enjoy it. If I do that, maybe I’ll fall asleep quicker? But then, what if my thoughts automatically go down a dark path again? What does that say about me? Does that mean I’m not happy? Or that I worry too much? Or is that just how a human naturally thinks? Would everybody revert to this way of thinking if they had an hour to kill with absolutely no stimulus? I’ve got to get back to the breathing.

In the bottom chamber,

middle chamber,

top chamber,

out the top chamber,

middle chamber,

bottom chamber.

I wonder if I got any more likes on that tweet? Probably not — you only get likes for outrage. This really isn’t working. Maybe I should stop trying to control my thoughts and just let my mind run wild. Maybe if I relax I will fall asleep quicker?

Probably not. It’s no wonder my thoughts always turn to such negative things with social media these days — not only is there a constant stream of terrible shit happening across the world, everyone hates each other too. I guess the two go hand-in-hand. But it’s acted out in public, 24/7, on social media. And all of us spend most of our days scrolling through it. Endlessly.

Of course, that’s going to fill you with a negative sense of self. Or am I just using that as an excuse to avoid my own insecurities? Everyone always bangs on about how all the worlds ills are caused by social media anyway. It’s boring and cliché. As if people weren’t dickheads and the world wasn’t fucked before Twitter.

Shit. Here again. Not exactly relaxing and enjoying it. How many times have I gone over these thoughts in my head? Torturing myself with it. The ultimate internal debate of the modern age: do I spend too much of my time doing literally nothing on social media? Just scrolling nowhere. Hoping for something to outrage me. Or make me laugh. Share it on the whatsapp group for a hollow emoji and a fleeting sense of fulfilment. Achieving nothing. Hating myself for it.

How can it be that, as a species, we’re the most productive we’ve ever been — productivity is one of the defining characteristics of our age — but the most influential development of our age is a black hole. Always there, sucking in our attention with notifications and worse — the barely repressed belief that something will have happened that requires your attention. It is useless to fight against a black hole

Late capitalism is a productivity machine that destroys your capacity to produce. No product is added to the marketplace. The most valuable thing you can do now is replicate the same system. Persistent reinforcement that this is the only way. Pronounced devotion to innovation and diversity over-compensating for the reproduction of the same old stale shit. Nothing real, tangible, useful.

But we constantly find ever new ways to jump through those absurd hoops of over-producing nothingness all while the most powerful market forces want you to be scrolling endlessly on your phone. About as unproductive as you can possibly be.

Is the scrolling part of reproducing the nothingness? Is that how it works? I guess it makes sense. If social media is just society replicating itself digitally, then we are just spending our time obsessing over a ghost of our lives. A ghost that has money pumped into it to make you ever-more obsessed. An incredibly smart and manipulative version of our real lives that takes all of our data and sells it to the highest bidder. A dementor.

We’re fucked. There’s no getting out of that. We’re in this loop now until climate change wipes us out or we nuke ourselves. Whatever comes first. Aaand again. Instead of sleeping I’m thinking about the end of the world. That is about as cliché as it gets. I guess that makes sense, considering what I was thinking about. I’m completely fucking myself now. This really is a loop. OK. Try breathing again. At this point it’s all you’ve got.

In the bottom chamber,

middle chamber,

top chamber,

out the top chamber,

middle chamber,

bottom chamber.

In the bottom chamber,

middle chamber,

top chamber,

out the top chamber,

middle chamber,

bottom chamber.

Hey maybe it will work this time.

In the bottom chamber,

middle chamber,

top chamber,

out the top chamber,

middle chamber,

bottom chamber.

But maybe that’s not even true. I’ve worked out some obscure theory about the most important problem we face as a species, but it just happened to be what I was thinking about at the time. There was no research that went into that. I just told myself that shit to stop myself sleeping. Or did I actually figure out something important? Will these thoughts help me? Is this progress or deterioration?

And maybe it says something about my class? It shows how hooked in I really am. How stupid am I for not realising this? This is what the market wants me to be doing based on my position in society. Because I’m middle class I’m hooked into a world where my destruction is tied to my consumption. If I was working class the market would be finding another, more brutal way, to exploit me. That’s my privilege.

Hey maybe I really am figuring stuff out tonight. Maybe this was a good idea, letting my thoughts roam freely. Even though it’s, wow that’s bright, 04:00, shit.

One hour of sleep left. This is a fucking disaster.

And hang on — I’m praising myself for realising that what I thought was the great issue of modern times is centred around my class and spending power. I’ve just assumed the discourse — I’m such a twat, how can I call my own internal thoughts discourse — I happen to be having inside my head at this moment is the most crucial topic in society right now. That’s fucked up. Really fucked up. I’m such a prick.

Or does that just make me the same as everyone else? Surely everyone experiences the world based on the their class and spending power? So should I be angry with myself? No! Should I be proud of myself? No. Have I solved anything? No.

I’ve created a convoluted process for realising a very basic thing and taken myself on a journey of hate, despair and ridicule to get there. I mean, I guess that’s what life is anyway. I hate myself even more now. Why the fuck am I awake? What time is it? Might as well have another look, I’m beyond the point where it matters.

04:19

Is it even worth trying to sleep at all now? I can’t get up. You’d have to be insane to get up at 5am for work and actually wake up 40 minutes before your alarm having not had any sleep. Is that a catch-22? I reckon it is. Love a nice catch-22. Is that tragic post-modernism? I’m enjoying the thing that’s ruining my life because it’s the ghost of something somebody else created? Fuck this.

Just try to relax, breathe deeply, but don’t force it. Just let it go. You will get through tomorrow. Somehow. Fuck knows how. Another day of mind-numbing work in a pointless job that adds no value to society whatsoever. Why am I even stressed about it? Everyone else is a fucking zombie too.

Turn up. Sit at your desk. Reproduce the same inane, repetitive chit-chat with your boring colleagues who sleep like a baby every fucking night and probably just put a deposit down on their home and are going on their annual skiing holiday soon. ‘Oh really? Where are you going this year?.. cool. Oh the après-ski is really good there is it? No not this year. Yeah maybe next year. Anyway have a good one. Yeah, drinks at 6? Nice.’ Fuck off. I have to spend my whole day like this, day after day, until I earn enough money to retire — an unfathomable concept for anyone my age — or die.

So, I’m in an endless cycle of wasting my life over a shitty job that I need to keep because there aren’t any good jobs anyway and I literally couldn’t even do without a week of pay. And any job that actually adds to society pays like shit so that’s not much of an option — you have to get some ridiculous side-hustle because apparently we all have to be entrepreneurs now.

And any creativity that you did have is killed because creativity requires new experiences and your life is dedicated to replication. It’s not about doing an objectively good job where creativity might be useful — it’s about figuring out what your manager wants and doing whatever that is. And all managers are fucking useless because they were just the best one at figuring out the previous manager, rather than actually being good at the job. And so it replicates.

And I’m getting myself worked up over this shit. I’m ruining my life over this shit. I’m spiralling into madness every night because I can’t sleep over this shit. Fuck that. Literally fuck that. I can’t do this anymore. Wait. I actually can’t do this anymore.

What do I do? Have I moved along the suicide spectrum I was thinking about earlier? What happens when you give up in life but don’t kill yourself? Could I just stay in my bed indefinitely and see what happens? What would be the first thing to give? Obviously water. Then I’d eat something and the whole miserable chain of events would start again.

There should be some provisions for people who’ve given up but don’t want to die. Some kind of asylum for people who just don’t want to pretend anymore where we can go and get fed and watch shit on TV and just lie in bed all day. That would make more sense. All we are currently working towards is our own extinction anyway. Literally just super-charging climate change with all this progress bullshit. What are we progressing towards? A fucking disaster.

I don’t really want to live to see the time where the Earth becomes increasingly inhospitable and all the billionaires create a safe-haven for themselves with mad security, which is already happening, and all the rest of us have to try and fight it out to survive on the post-apocalyptic earth. Mad-Max style. Even saying that is a tired old cliché. But that’s what we are heading towards. Careering maniacally towards a fucking shitshow where everyone but a few thousand cunts lose. What is the point in that?

Another catastrophic thought pattern. Brilliant. OK, last chance, try to get some sleep. You’re going to get up and do it all again when you wake up. Even 10 minutes of sleep will help you deal with it. There are still reasons to wake up. Positive thoughts. Let’s breathe.

In the bottom chamber,

middle chamber,

top chamber,

out the top chamber,

Fuckkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk.

My alarm. Fuck! Ok. This is not good. I have to get up. I have to do well today. I have to be my best self. I have to convince myself to believe that what I do is important by putting maximum effort into it. Jesus, that’s the most depressing thought of the night. Also I’m supposed to be going out for drinks with that skiing bell-end after work. I can’t believe I spent another night like that. If I’m going to lie awake all night I should really start writing this stuff down. Every night. Every fucking night.