The Insomniac
I have this thing, where I repress all of my feelings unintentionally to avoid feeling the pain. I bottled the pain away and stored it in the wine cellar of my mind with the rest. They lay perfectly on the shelves, with mismatched labels. Each time I enter the cellar, I debate opening one of the delicious bottles, knowing once I start, I won’t stop until there is nothing left. Instead, I admire the bottle's beauty from a distance, knowing one day the room will shatter every bottle and I will consume every emotion I worked so hard to avoid. One day I will be so lucky to indulge in the beautiful liquid emotion which fills the bottles. One day I will put everything to rest.
