Time keeps moving and I wish it wouldn't. I wish I could freeze it, never go to bed again. Just have coffee at around eight at night for the rest of my life. Read a book, watch a movie, play a game. In comfy clothes with a warm beverage.

But all the magic in the world can't stop time. Well... there's a way to stop my time. But that's not an option in my life right now. I'm not ready to stop living. Even though it's torture at times, I'm not a quitter.

I'm halfway down life's journey, according to statistics and genes. I'm not sure I will make it that far though. The thought of still having to live that long makes me anxious and exhausted in advance.

People see me as kind, happy, strong, healthy even. I'm none of those things. But I sure know how to look the part some days. No, that's not true. I am kind. Just not to everyone and mostly not to myself.

Happy? Happiness is a weird concept to me. I never feel completely happy. There are chuckles and laughter sometimes though. Some singing, blushes, and my heart skipping a beat. I even dance. Still it always feels like I'm not allowed to. Or that I will be punished for enjoying myself.

Strong? Ha! I'm physically in my weakest state muscle wise. Mentally? That completely depends on the day or even the hour. But I don't feel strong at all. I feel like I'm losing all my fights.

And healthy I'm definitely not. Don't let this round face with rosy cheeks fool you. I collect chronic illnesses and take a lot of medication every day to just be able to get up and get dressed. But they keep me alive. And as mentioned before, I'm not ready to die.

That's where the turning point in my brain starts to come into focus. So what am I going to do? I know sleep is important. For my tired body and mind. I need to restore. Shut off. Let go.

But behind my eyes is where they live. My demons. In a pitch-black world with bubbling lava, chains and whips. It smells like burning skin, tortured screams fill the air, evil eyes light up in the dark. Sleep is no friend of mine.

I grab my glass of water and stare at the screen where you live. The final sip of water slides down my throat and I know I have to tell you it's past my bedtime. You, on the other side of the world with so many hours of this day still ahead of you. Me, having to be the one to say goodbye every time.

I hate goodbyes. They suck. I'm not good at letting go. Because when you let go, you're vulnerable. Alone. And those demons smell that a mile away.

Gathering all my strength, I mention I have to go to bed. And you, being the loving person you are, wish me a good night. Thanking me for time spent. Reminding me I'm loved. Never making me feel guilty for having to go.

After a final 'I love you', I close my computer and wipe the burning tear rolling down my cheek. I miss you already. I'm scared alone.

I quickly go through the nighttime routine, fed by my erratic heartbeat.

As soon as I'm in bed, I curl up in a ball, hugging a stuffed animal, trying to relax somehow. If I'm lucky fatigue will pull me under fast. But my skin is already heating up. Hell is near.

Their nails claw at my skin... Fear invades my veins...

The black behind my eyes swirls like a tornado, pulling me down into the world of shadows.