The Night That Never Ends

I had a really hard time writing this piece and it took me a while. Even though it’s not great and mainly just a bunch of dismal discombobulation, I hope you will enjoy it. 

Warning: sensitive material ahead!

Do you ever have those moments of the night when you just want to cry?

From the weight of the stress that binds your lungs and heart?

To let the tune of the tears trickling down your cheeks hush you to sleep?

Your raspy breaths choking on sobs; catch your breath and seep out of your mouth.

Your broken soul escape the prison called your body, spread out, and clothe you in comfort.

The ringing in your ears from all the crying, mesh into a soft lullaby and carry your mind away to an awfully wretched peace.

The most dangerous place to be free,

But safest place to be?

I do.

I wish I could.

I’ve forgotten what it’s like to cry.

I’ve forgotten the feeling of splitting headaches after you pour your sorrow out through rugged gasps and sobs.

My mind yearns for it.

More than anything, all I want to do is cry.


I dream of you, you know.

That night.

That time.

My mind continually pieces those events back together.

Your white sheets,

My white screams;

Silent white noise.

That is the nightmare I submerge into each and every night.

Immediately I climb into the sheets I am somewhere else.  

Not one, not two beings in bed, but three.

The order is this: Me, Myself and I.

We lie together in bed, only one pair facing each other.

I face Me, and Myself lays still, staring up to the non-existent stars.

Me (the person others see)

Myself (the person I see)

And I (who am I?)

I am faceless, empty and yearning.

I am an easel to place a painting upon.

Better yet

I am a canvas, white and unknowing; waiting to be painted upon.

Some days I am Me, other days I am Myself, but never am I, I.

Because I cannot not exist.


Me, Myself, and I.

The Demon, the Angel and the Doll.

Both the Angel and Demon hold me down as he devours my body.

First him, then them, and then the darkness; they all have a chance to tear at my body, turning my soul inside out.

Scraping out my insides, like that of a cantaloupe. 

Bruising me and burning out my voice;

Staining sex into my memory.

Tarnishing my flesh and purity.

I can never tell if this is ever part of the dream; whether it starts with me climbing into bed with these creatures, or I lay with them before they toss me into mayhem.

It’s over.

I can finally feel myself lulling to sleep.

Exhausted beyond definition;

Fatigue, fatigue, fatigue.

The already present bags under my eyes pulling me down.

As my body sinks into the sheets.

Me and Myself have have gone away.

But I know they are around somewhere,

These phantoms who cloak themselves in the darkness of my soul.


Some days are better than others.

Happy days! Oh how I love happy days!

Happy days come from happy nights.

Happy nights come from an absence of nightly terrors.

And an absence of terror means sleep: a luxury I rarely have.


Some days all I feel is frustration:

Instead of receiving the love I yearn for, all they do is leave.

Why would you leave, how can you leave when it’s obvious my  “I’m fine” meant “Help Me”?

…Or was it the same concept when he said my “No” meant “Yes”?


I am in a constant state of thirst.  

But it is a thirst no food or drink could satisfy.

I have constant desire to touch.

A constant lust to feel.

But you’re dirty.


Damaged goods.


On those nights when sleep leaves me and I lay for hours, alternating back and forth between sanity and insanity, I open up my Bible and read.

I read.

I read to sanctify my soul.

I read to seek refuge.

I read to feel safe.

(And although the feeling of preservation never lasts, it heals; even if only for a brief moment, it heals).

Those little moments are all it take for me to look forward to the nightmare of my psyche ceasing; to where day breaks, and sunlight meshes with the dark of night to create dawn.

Or when the pitch of my morning alarm reminds me to not miss the bus.


What hurts the most is that the people you choose to let in don’t believe you.

They  judge.

They recede.

Or they make it about them.

The supports you expected the most refuse to acknowledge you need help.

And when someone finally reaches out to pull you from your despair, you refuse it, because every time you get pulled from one darkness you are plunged into another.

It’s just another endless cycle of pain.

So you stay numb.

Because what you don’t know can’t hurt you.

Because what you have known, has hurt you.

So stay numb.

You’re already cracked, and if you’re not careful, you will crumble.

I’ve always lacked the words to express how I feel, even when seated everyday in a room among minds with no veil.

A class with people who know how not just to speak, but to feel.

I watch as these people evolve and grow with time.

Their hairstyles change, voice, relationships and mind.

I run along with them in order to match their heartbeat; in order to not fall behind.

I’ll change my hair and try a new lipstick, take up a friend’s suggestion and DARE.

But to these people I wonder at times if I’m even really there?


The days pass and graduation fast approaches;

And I stay frozen in time.

My life is a night that never ends.

I’m not sure if I’m actually even here,

But my nightmares will keep me alive.

Pain is my only reminder of my existence.



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3 thoughts on “The Night That Never Ends

  1. Dearest Timi,

    I had no doubts that you would craft a masterpiece every time that you post, but this takes the mastery of your skill in writing to a whole new level. I find that, while there are certain aspects of your poem that I empathize with, I connect with individual who is the main focus of this piece.

    The vivid imagery that you have provided the readers is astounding and is very clear for the reader to understand. Your title adds to the darkness of the piece, and the tone is so very grim.

    I love how dismal it is.

    Thank you for giving us this amazing piece and please continue to write!

    With much love,
    Bryna Anne

  2. Dear Timi,

    WOW this piece left me with goosebumps, it’s truly beautiful and takes courage to post a blog with such sensitive material, but it is so important that you posted this for all of us to read. What you discussed in your piece – the significance of suffering pain alone – is something I’m sure we have all felt. I know I have.

    Thank you so so so much for posting this. Since the beginning of the class I have been in silent awe of all that you write, it’s a blessing to get to read it all. In terms of this piece, specifically, I admire how you weaved such a complex concept through the piece with such simple sentences and thoughts. I found this to be a lot more powerful than if you used compound-complex sentences.

    In particular, you had said this, “What hurts the most is that the people you choose to let in don’t believe you.” Such a simple sentence conveys a multitude of insights and themes, ahh! It’s brilliant.

    Perhaps one thing to work one would be to clarify the ideas and concepts you talk about just a bit more. I found myself having to go back and re-read some of what you wrote. This may just be me, though. haha.

    To reiterate, what a fantastic blog post! It is chock full of everything I want to be as a writer… Thank you so very much.

    All the love,

  3. Dearest Timi,

    Wow – I think, with this piece, you have expressed an abstract, impossible-to-grasp topic with amazing amounts of grace and emotion. Its simply incredible!

    Your writing is so beautifully poetic – its hard to put into words just how awe-inspiring it is. I wouldn’t at all consider this to be “just a bunch of dismal discombobulation”; I loved the style and the structure, and I thought it suited the dark nature of the topic. The imagery and the language you used worked so well together that I read the whole thing a couple of times just to savour it once more! You are an inspiration to all the Grade 10s.

    This would normally be the moment when I break in with a “grow”, but you are Timi, okay? I, the imperfect being, should not be expected to find a flaw in your brilliance! I seriously cannot think of anything (even after reading this five times!)that you should improve on; my mind is too filled with your words.

    I suppose there is only one thing I can ask for – I desperately want to hear more from you, to hear your “voice” inside your writing once again.

    Thank you so much for giving me the pleasure of reading this piece! It is such an honour, especially because you are an unbelievably talented writer.



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