Insomnia

For all those nights when counting sheep still wouldn't shake away the bad feelings, instead I thought of good memories. And that went one of two ways: wishing they would let me sleep, haunting me and turning into night terrors, or fighting sleep, trying to memorize every single detail, every single word said, every color and every smell, having the horror of losing it altogether at the very back of my mind. Either way, I remain afraid to sleep. And if I dream of you, will it turn into a nightmare, or a wish for eternal slumber? So I'm either counting sheep or loosing sleep. At least they're rather pleasant fellows.