He’s sleeping now. Or at least he’s pretending to.
When his eyes are closed, he doesn’t see the world that is constantly throwing hurdles at him. He doesn’t feel reality biting all the time when he shuts his eyes and succumb to the relieving darkness that his eyelids give. He is safe when his eyes are closed.
Even the thought af sleeping scares him. Whenever he is haunted with the nightmares of his yesterday, he can’t help but weep silently with his pillows, alone in his dark and cold room. He wants to lay in bed and close his eyes, yet he doesn’t want to sleep. He just wants the comfort of his bed and his pillows and his stuffed toys. Yes, his stuffed toys. His loyal friends who would listen to him everytime he rants about the world. They wipe his tears when he cries violently during the night. Quietly, they love him unconditionally.
He’s tired of escaping from the world. The troubles, the quarrels, the unending misunderstandings that put a heavier burden on his already shattered soul. His body has been strained so much by the stress and depression that his life gives him. He is very, very exhausted.
Yet, he fights. He struggles. He survives.
He’s still pretending to sleep. His eyes are just closed. He is aware of the world around him, and he knows that with his bed, his pillows and his stufffed toys,he will live on forever. And ever.
the inflexion 