awareness is the enemy of sanity
Remi’s question makes Finn stutter in a breath, and the first time he tries to reply he’s cut off by a clap of thunder overhead. Absently he realises that it looks more like night now than day on the beach, and they are the only two still around. He clears his throat, reaching up to take off his glasses, to stare down at them as if he might crush them with his bare hands for a moment. ”I am afraid of losing my mind,” he says quietly. ”That I will lose my grip on what is real, that I will fall into a dream I can’t wake up from.”
It’s a quiet confession, one not made easily, one shared with fewer people than he cares to admit. ”I am an insomniac, Remi,” he explains. ”I suffered with night terrors as a child, and my mind has learned to cope by refusing to shut itself off. My own brain’s solution to its problem was to make a larger problem.” That is the story of his life, in a nutshell.
It’s a quiet confession, one not made easily, one shared with fewer people than he cares to admit. ”I am an insomniac, Remi,” he explains. ”I suffered with night terrors as a child, and my mind has learned to cope by refusing to shut itself off. My own brain’s solution to its problem was to make a larger problem.” That is the story of his life, in a nutshell.
for once you hear the screaming
it never stops
FINN
