ANASTASIA
I haven’t slept for days now, and I can’t recall the last time I had to battle with insomnia for days.
I’ve been stuffing my body with sleeping pills—maybe precisely three pills or five. I swallowed so many that I lost count, and I still couldn’t get enough sleep.
I tried my last resort, dancing and singing horribly loud till my voice went dead, but I was still not f*****g sleeping but just staring miserably at the not-too-modern ceiling of my room.
I meant every word I said by going back into my shell and going into hiding, where no one would be able to find me. And I meant no f*****g one because it’s been three days since I disappeared from the world where nobody acknowledged my presence.
I’m in a world of my own. I’m in a world where the walls can even recognize my voice
