This text has been inspired by my most recent read, ‚My Year of Rest and Relaxation,‘ written by the author Ottessa Moshfegh. The book follows a female unnamed protagonist who tries to escalate her use of prescribed medication in an attempt to sleep for a year.

My eyes slowly open. What time is it? Have I slept through an entire day? Did I manage to doze away for 365 days? Where are my pills? I need to silence my inner voice once more. The sun isn’t shining. I cannot recall if it was already dawn when I fell asleep. My legs feel leaden. I should check the Bottega; I am running low on booze…

Waking up no longer excites me. I’ve lost what once inspired me the most. I’ve lost what brought me happiness. And over time, I’ve lost myself piece by piece, which feels like the greatest loss of all. I reminisce about the days when I used to feel alive. Nowadays, I feel dead. I wish I were. Am I? I suppose. Yet, my heart keeps pumping, and my lungs keep breathing. I wish I were alive again, yet distant from the pain that consumes me.

Silence.

I dare not speak.

Heart.

I hear my heart pounding loudly and hurriedly.

Lungs.

I am holding my breath.

Tears.

They keep streaming down.

Suppress.

I am holding back my feelings.

Light.

The sun doesn’t shine. My sun doesn’t shine.

The sun doesn’t shine as it once did. I don’t radiate as I used to. I’ve transformed into this dark place where no light can be found. I’ve become a place devoid of life. I’ve become something no one wants to witness. That’s why I hide. Because nobody likes to witness the disappearance of the sun. Neither do I. So, I close my eyes, keeping them shut for hours on end. I try to sleep, to slumber until the year has passed.

The sun of my happiness.

The sun of my love.

The sun of my motivation.

The sun of my hope.

This sun has vanished. In return, it has bestowed upon me these thick, grey clouds. These are the only things I see when I gaze out of the window.

Clouds of misery.

Clouds of hate.

Clouds of disinterest.

Clouds of lost hope.

Every morning, I awaken with the awareness and expectation of these clouds looming above me once again. Every morning, I am conscious that I must endure a world where the sun won’t rise so fast again, maybe even never.