the-real-psycho-queen

[the-real-psycho-queen]

3:03 am. Violet murmured to herself, her gaze fixed on the ceiling. Night after night, she found herself unable to sleep, lost in a labyrinth of thoughts and regrets. Amidst the chaos, she strangely found a perverse pride in her worst decisions. How did it come to this? Am I losing my sanity? No, maybe... just maybe, I'm unbelievably brilliant.

Glancing at the clock, it read 4:32 am. With a sigh, she reached for a cigarette, aware that rest would elude her once again. Her mind relentlessly raced, inundating her with questions and anxieties, occasionally interrupted by fleeting fantasies that offered temporary respite, only to plunge her back into despair.

At 5:17 am, Violet began to drift into sleep, plagued by the unsettling realization that she had a mere two hours and forty-three minutes before waking up. Clutching her pillow tightly, she struggled in vain to clear her mind. Why do I subject myself to this? Sometimes, I wonder if I deliberately sabotage my own peace... Drama seems to be my ally. Then again, perhaps my mind possesses a will of its own, harboring resentment toward me. Do I despise myself? No. Yes. No. Who truly knows? Maybe even I fail to comprehend my own self... It was 6:48 am when she finally succumbed to slumber, yet her dreams were overrun by the same ruminations that haunted her wakeful hours. Trivial questions and fleeting ideas held her captive throughout the night, and strangely, she didn't despise her sleeplessness as much as she claimed. Exhaustion provided solace a tangible sensation instead of numbing emptiness.

Half-awake, Violet reached for her phone, praying she hadn't overslept again. The time displayed was 8:18 am. She released a sigh of relief mingled with disappointment. I still have a few minutes. No, if I don't rise now, I'll fall back asleep. But maybe I could rest a little longer. What am I saying? Just get up, Violet! Damn it! Why do I always complicate things? Open your eyes and get out of bed, Violet. By the time she managed to rise, it was already 1:08 pm. Panicked, she hurried through her routine, hoping her morning absence had gone unnoticed. As she dashed out of her apartment, she glanced at her phone, flooded with missed messages from earlier. Violet rolled her eyes, cranked up her music to drown out the world, and pondered a better excuse than simply "oversleeping."

Her head spun, her body aching for respite, but time was a luxury she couldn't afford. Immersed in the melodies that filled her mind, she succumbed to their seductive embrace. Creating intricate characters, each with profound personalities, they felt almost real, as if she held their entire lives and emotions in her hands. For a fleeting moment, it seemed as though she observed their existence in a world where she herself didn't belong, a world meticulously crafted with fragments of her essence scattered among each character. Hours would slip away as she indulged in daydreams of this new universe. Yet, as vivid as they were, she would inevitably snap back to reality, realizing that it was all a fabrication. She couldn't divide herself; perhaps she already had without realizing it. After everything she had experienced, it wasn't far-fetched to imagine that she created this imaginary realm as a means to avoid confronting her own life. It was easier to witness someone else endure the pain she couldn't allow herself to feel, someone stronger. But that wasn't reality. Each time her daydreams faded, a profound sadness enveloped her, and she would sigh disappointedly, searching for a new song, a new fantasy, another escape from her own existence. Countless scenarios played out in her mind, none of which featured her as her true self, but rather who she longed to be—each more unrealistic than the last, yet painfully vivid enough to bring tears to her eyes over tragedies she herself had fabricated. It was as if her mind possessed the power to transport her to different dimensions, with music serving as the gateway to each scene.

Lost in thought, she arrived at her destination before she even realized it. *Sigh* I wonder, if I could reside within my own mind, would I descend into madness? Am I already on the brink of insanity? No. Yes. No. Madness and brilliance are closer than we think, but how can I distinguish between the two? My mind sabotages my life, yet it also infuses it with meaning. I feel nothing... but I do feel the music.

#novel #amature writer #mental illness #insomia #fantasy #day dreaming #biography