Bed Bust

I think it was 3am. I should remember it, because after that it took me another hour to get back to sleep. In this empty room I had some sort of anxiety attack, and it took visions of the aliens from "Signs" to jolt me into a risen position on the bed. I felt terrible.

But it wasn't a nightmare of monsters and rogue aliens on the side that troubled me. It was far worse. They were thoughts, racing up to my head of the so many stresses that seem to revel at my senses. It was a painful price to pay for the humanity that I chose.

Something has got to be done. Not all the time can I bear the weight of the world crashing down on me. Not all the time can I think about a way out. There has got to be a way out. Somehow.