I haven’t slept in six months. Five months, three weeks and four days. Roughly. I can’t be exact on the hours and minutes. I’m wide awake though. For the first couple of nights it wasn’t too bad. I’d stay up playing video games and watching crap movies. But I soon grew bored.
I started going for walks. The city is so quiet at night; eerie, yet charming. Living on the outskirts meant the hills overlooking the metropolis were within easy reach. The urban skyline, so ugly in the light of day, becomes so much more appealing in the dark. I would feign sleep until just past midnight when I could be sure my parents were asleep then climb out my window, wandering the near-silent streets or roaming the areas beyond the concrete jungle. I’d always be back in my bed by six o’clock, ready to be ‘woken’ by my dad at seven.
I discovered a new sense of freedom. With nobody else around in the woods and hills I could do entirely as I please. I would cross the river via the crumbling dam, I explored the disused military bunker, I built a small tree house from which I could watch the other nocturnal creatures. But again, I grew bored.
The sense of adventure was lost. I needed an element of risk that I wasn’t getting. And then I found it. I found her.