Insomnia is killing me.
I sat slouched in the back of the classroom, leaning against the cold, metal backrest of the chair. Mrs. Thompson, in her mustard-colored sweater, was methodically going over another biology topic at the blackboard. I let my pen move across the paper in a steady, mindless rhythm, even though everything she said felt like the epitome of dullness.
The room was nearly full, except for two empty desks where Tori and Kris used to sit. They hadn’t shown up since the beginning of the year. I’ve thought about asking around to find out what happened to them, but honestly, I’ve been too drained to care.
I glanced out the window. The trees outside, once lush and green, were starting to fade, their colors slowly bleeding into shades of orange and yellow—a quiet reminder that autumn was creeping in. It was September 12th, only the second week of school, but it already felt like an eternity.
The familiar weight of exhaustion pressed down on me, and my eyelids grew heavier. I wanted to close them, but I knew it wouldn’t help. Lately, no matter how tired I was, sleep just didn’t want to come.
Don’t get me wrong. My sleeping problem isn’t the result of any big teenage drama. In fact, I’d even say my life is going pretty well. Not to brag, but I’m a decent-looking 16—almost 17—year-old guy. I’m healthy, my grades are solid, and things at home? They’re just fine. Sure, I’ve never had a girlfriend, but that’s not something I’m too worried about. There’s still time for that.
But there’s this one thing. A problem I don’t even know how to explain.
It’s like something around me is off, just slightly wrong. I can’t put my finger on it, but that nagging feeling? It’s what’s been keeping me up at night.
Sounds really stupid, doesn’t it?
My attention drifted back to the blackboard, where Mrs. Thompson had written: Mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell. Mitochondria are tiny organelles inside cells that release energy from food.
Yeah, yeah, very interesting.
I suddenly recalled something I’d heard in one of those late-night TV shows: people with insomnia often say they feel ‘detached from reality.’
That’s exactly how I’ve felt for the past two weeks. Everything seems somewhat fake. Unimportant. Like I’m watching my life from behind a screen.
At this point, I’m not even sure if I can’t sleep because of this feeling, or if I feel this way because I can’t sleep.
The subjects we’re discussing are pretty simple, but they all seem so pointless to me. Typical school stuff—cram it, pass the test, and forget it.
Though, weirdly enough, I’ve been finding it easier to study lately.
I’m not the brightest guy in the room, but ever since the school year started, it’s like a switch flipped in my brain. Suddenly, every subject feels astonishingly easy to understand, learn, and remember. My concentration is all over the place thanks to the insomnia, but somehow, I’m still absorbing everything. Not that I’m complaining. As they say, never look a gift horse in the mouth, right?
Instead of learning about mitochondria, my thoughts drifted, and I caught myself just staring at the clock, waiting for the bell to release us from this monotonous routine. The usual hum of voices, the rustling of notebooks, the rhythmic scratching of pens—it all faded into the background as my mind wandered.
----------------------------------------
As I was lost in thought, the doors swung open with a small bang. I turned my gaze toward the noise and saw someone entering the classroom.
It was a short girl, probably my age. Her striking red hair immediately caught my attention, and the heavy, dramatic eye makeup, along with glowing blue lipstick, gave her an edgy, almost rebellious vibe. She was dressed in a black T-shirt with some band’s logo on it—one I’d never heard of—paired with a black skirt that stopped just above her knees. Her elevated combat boots and thigh-high socks only added to the look. She had a backpack slung over her shoulder, but it looked completely empty.
That outfit is definitely not allowed in our school.
She stormed into the classroom, clearly pissed off about something, stomping and muttering angrily under her breath.
“Huh, is this my class?” she muttered to herself after a few steps, scanning the room like she owned the place.
I watched her for a few moments, trying to place her—and then it clicked.
It was Tori, a classmate who had been absent since the start of the year. We hadn’t really talked much before, but she used to be a quiet, calm, and pretty normal girl, always hanging out with a small group of friends. Now, with her dyed hair, bold outfit, and the way she carried herself, I could barely recognize her.
Seems like since the last time I saw her, she’s gone through some kind of transformation—now she’s got this whole punk or hooligan vibe going on.
Without apologizing for the interruption, Tori walked straight across the classroom and sat down at the empty desk by the wall. No explanation, no excuses—she just took her seat like nothing was out of the ordinary.
What struck me as even weirder, though, was the fact that Mrs. Thompson didn’t even react to her entrance. No raised eyebrows, no questions about why she’d been absent or where she’d been. It was like Tori’s sudden appearance meant nothing. The rest of the class was the same—no one even batted an eye.
I found myself staring at her for a bit longer than I realized, trying to figure out what was going on, but I came up blank. Not wanting to draw any unnecessary attention to myself, I decided to let it go for now. Besides, I’m way too tired to care that much.
I reminded myself I had notes to take, so I went back to jotting them down.
A few minutes into class, Tori suddenly started complaining loudly.
“Boring, really boring. Who will ever need this?” she groaned.
Honestly, yeah—that’s exactly what I was thinking too! But there’s no way I’m saying that out loud. I’m not suicidal. Mrs. Thompson can be terrifying when she wants to be, and I’m not about to piss her off for something as dumb as that.
But, once again, Mrs. Thompson didn’t react. She just kept writing the next definition on the board as if the girl hadn’t spoken at all.
“Buuu,” Tori let out a bored whine, like she was mocking the whole situation.
I glanced around, but still, no reaction from anyone.
“Ehh, what am I even doing here?” she muttered a few seconds later, more to herself than to anyone else.
I had the same question in my mind. She didn’t even have a notebook or a pen. Was she planning to just sit there and do nothing?
For a brief moment, she was quiet. Maybe I’d finally be able to focus on the lesson again. But then she started humming. Loudly and completely out of rhythm.
“Hmmm hmm dubai dubai, hmmm hmm du du duu.”
I felt like my ears were about to start bleeding. It was so offbeat and awkward that I couldn’t even figure out what she was trying to sing.
I glanced around, expecting someone—anyone—to at least give her a weird look.
But, again, nobody did.
No one even flinched. Everyone just carried on as before. Some students were focused on the lesson, others whispered quietly, and a few were trying to nap. But they all ignored her. It was weird—really weird.
After a few minutes, curiosity finally got the better of me. I leaned forward to ask Max, the guy sitting in front of me, what was going on.
“Hey Max…”
I/GGGNΦOΦRЭЭ
Wait, what was I thinking about?
Well, whatever. I’ll just focus on the lesson. These definitions are probably going to be on the next test anyway.
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When the bell finally rang, signaling the end of the biology lesson, the class split into two groups. Some students lingered, chatting about typical school matters, while others headed off to the cafeteria for a quick snack. I decided to stay in the classroom. I wasn’t that hungry, and besides, I figured I could at least try to be sociable for a bit.
Since Max was one of the more extroverted and popular guys in the class, a small crowd gathered around him within minutes. He perched casually on his desk, instantly becoming the center of attention.
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Thanks to his seat being so close to mine, I didn’t even have to move to join in.
My insomnia and general lack of energy made it hard to care about much these days, so I wasn’t really interested in anything they were talking about. Still, I felt like I should at least make an effort to socialise, even if it was just mindless chatter with my classmates.
"Ugh, I didn’t understand anything from that lesson. It was so boring, I couldn’t focus," someone grumbled, breaking the silence.
"Hard to disagree," I muttered under my breath. Several others chimed in, agreeing on how tedious the classes were.
"What do we have next?" one of them asked, squinting as if trying to remember the next subject on the schedule.
I couldn’t recall either. Probably math?
"It’s so damn hot, I can’t wait for it to cool down," someone else complained, fanning themselves.
"Did anyone even do the homework?" Jessica asked, her voice tinged with concern.
The conversation flowed aimlessly, with everyone tossing in whatever random thoughts came to mind. It was typical classroom banter—nothing important, just noise to fill the time between classes.
After a few minutes, it became apparent that I was too tired to keep up with the discussion. I really wish I could just take a short nap.
Screw it, I'll give it a try.
I rested my head on a stack of books and closed my eyes, hoping to catch even a moment of rest. But after just a few seconds, that familiar, uncomfortable pressure started building behind my ears.
Wrong place, wrong time—everything is wrong.
Anxiety and nausea flared up, that same damn sensation that had been haunting me for weeks.
Great. No sleep for me. Again.
I reluctantly opened my eyes—and found myself staring straight into a pair of brown eyes, gazing in our direction.
Some girl I didn’t recognize was sitting at a previously empty desk.
Wait... she came in last hour. Her name was… Tori, right? And she was really disturbing the class. Yet, everyone ignored her. I wanted to ask Max about it, why did I stop?
SΓΦOΦρ.
She was still staring at our group.
For a second, I felt my focus slipping. But despite my growing discomfort, I forced a nervous smile and waved at her, trying to casually acknowledge her gaze. It probably came off as awkward as it felt, but I hoped it would send a simple message: Yes, we can see you staring.
Her reaction was immediate. Her eyes widened in surprise, and she jerked back in her chair, almost as if I’d startled her. A confused "Huh?" escaped her lips.
What on earth was she so shocked about? I just waved.
Before I could process it further, Tori stood up, quickly grabbed her things, and walked out of the classroom without a word.
Well, that was weird.
I sat there, utterly confused by the whole encounter.
I looked around again. Nobody else seemed to react to her at all, which made it feel even more bizarre.
I tried to shake it off and get back to the conversation, but the whole thing kept gnawing at me—her strange behavior, her sudden departure, and the lack of response from my classmates. None of it made any sense.
After a few minutes of pretending to be part of the group, I finally asked, "Is it just me, or is Tori acting a bit off lately? I wonder what happened to her over the summer."
The moment the words left my mouth, the atmosphere in the room shifted. My friends went dead silent, staring at me like I’d just said something completely out of line.
Huh? What’s going on?
Suddenly, an overwhelming tightness gripped my chest, as if the air itself had thickened around me. It felt like invisible hands were pressing down, making it hard to breathe. My vision darkened slightly at the edges.
The silence dragged on for a few more seconds before, just as abruptly, my friends resumed talking as if nothing had happened. The strange pressure disappeared, vanishing like it had never been there at all.
I sat there, trying to catch my breath. This whole situation was starting to mess with my head. Had I broken some sort of unspoken rule?
Did they just ignore me? What is their problem?
But then, as if something else was pressing into my thoughts, a foreign feeling pulsed through me:
LEAΠδδVE IΨΨT
I felt my thoughts beginning to slip away.
But, you know what, I think I’m a bit too tired to deal with that right now.
It’s fine. Who cares? Me? For sure not! Nu-uh.
As if on cue, the bell rang, signaling the start of our next class—Math. I let out a deep sigh and began to prepare for an hour of calculations.
----------------------------------------
After getting home, I arranged to meet my friend Dean for a run at the nearby park.
The park was built around a small, artificial pond, home to a variety of fish and ducks. It stretched over several square kilometers, with paths crisscrossing the grounds for running, cycling, or simply strolling. There were playgrounds for kids, benches strategically placed for people to sit and enjoy the view, and in the evenings, the paths were lit by warm streetlights. As always, the park was alive with activity—dog walkers, couples on romantic strolls, families having picnics by the water, and fitness enthusiasts like us.
Since the first grade, Dean and I had been meeting every few days to jog around the park and stay in shape. Dean, my older and more energetic friend, was always full of positivity. He’s basically my “social mentor,” constantly encouraging me to talk to more people and live a little outside my comfort zone.
At 1.80 meters, Dean and I were the same height, and we shared the same black hair color. His short haircut was always neat, and as a key player on the school baseball team, people naturally gravitated toward him. Whether it was a spontaneous game of basketball, a party, or even an early morning run, Dean was always up for it. People just loved this guy.
But lately, during our runs, I’d noticed something odd—Dean seemed to struggle more than I did. I wasn’t sure if it was him who had changed, or if my fitness had inexplicably improved over the past few weeks, but there was a clear difference in our endurance.
How is that even possible? I haven’t been able to sleep properly in weeks!
Dean, usually the athletic one, was now the one huffing and puffing, barely able to keep up. Meanwhile, I was barely breaking a sweat, my breathing steady. Of course, I felt tired—but it wasn’t from the exercise itself.
I glanced at him again, and he was practically fighting for his life.
I decided not to push him any harder and risk him collapsing. But before I could suggest taking a break, he threw his hands up and exclaimed, “Okay! Break! I can’t keep up.”
We sat down on the nearest bench.
“You’ve got some serious stamina, Joshua! Are you secretly training without telling your buddy? Admit it!” Dean teased, still trying to catch his breath.
I laughed, shaking my head. “Not at all! I’m as confused as you are. Maybe you’ve just gotten lazy?”
Dean scoffed. “No way! You’re the one who suddenly has the stamina of a professional athlete. Admit it, you’re trying to get in shape to impress some girl!” Then, with a sneer, he added: “Remember though, no amount of training can fix your face.”
“Yeah, right,” I shot back with a grin. “Not just one girl, but two! Your sisters! They’ll be asking me on a date any day now!”
Dean’s eyes widened in mock outrage. “Oh, you’re dead now!” He jumped up and tried to chase me around the bench, but he was too winded to have any chance of catching me.
“Alright, alright,” he said, hands on his knees, panting. “But I warn you, my sisters aren’t as sweet as they look. They’re monsters! And if my dad hears you talking like that, he’ll load up his shotgun. Better be careful!”
I dramatically clutched my chest and stumbled backward, pretending to be struck. “An arrow to my heart! They say love conquers all, but the thought of your dad with a shotgun might be too much to overcome.”
Dean burst out laughing, and I joined him. After a few minutes of catching our breath and trading casual banter, Dean was ready to run again.
I suddenly remembered this strange girl that came to my class today.
Just before we resumed jogging, I asked, “Hey, do you remember Tori? The girl from my class? Have you heard any rumors about her?”
Dean gave me a curious look as he wiped the sweat from his brow. “Yeah, I remember her. Word around school is she joined some gang and beat up one of the older girls. She’s dangerous, man! Definitely someone to steer clear of.”
I blinked, surprised. “Really? That doesn’t sound like her at all. I remember her from before summer—just a normal, nice girl. She never seemed like the type to get into fights.”
Dean shrugged, his expression thoughtful for a moment. The air was quiet except for the rhythm of our feet on the pavement and the breeze cooling us down.
After a while, Dean repeated, “Be careful with Tori. She joined a gang and beat up one of the girls at our school!”
I frowned, feeling a little disoriented. “Yeah, you mentioned that already…”
Dean wasn’t in my class, but he knew most of the students. I remembered him pointing out Tori to me once or twice when we’d been talking about the girls in my class. She definitely caught his attention back then, but there was never anything remotely dangerous about her.
Something about this whole situation didn’t sit right with me.
“Did anything else happen? Seems like everyone’s ignoring her for some reason, even Mrs. Thompson,” I asked, hoping for a more straightforward answer this time.
A heavy, awkward silence hung between us. Then, without warning, Dean stood up, brushing off the question entirely. “Alright, break's over! Enough talking! Come on, Joshua, let’s run—we’ve still got two more laps, and I need to get home early!” He jogged ahead without waiting for a response.
What is wrong with him?
He straight-up ignored my question.
Wait a second.
This wasn’t the first time that had happened. The exact same thing had occurred in class.
Why did I forget that?
Once again, that uncomfortable tightening sensation crept into my chest. It felt like something wasn’t right, like the very question I had asked was off-limits. What was it about Tori that made everyone act so freaking weird?
My classmates ignoring me was one thing—they probably had some internal drama that made Tori a sensitive topic. But why was Dean, my closest friend, brushing it off too? What the hell was happening?
I wanted to push Dean for more answers.
LEEΣAAVVΩEΣΣ!ςςςς
I didn’t want to drop the subject, but something told me I should leave it alone, at least for now.
Yeah... I should just let it go.
Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to stand up and jog after Dean. For now, I’d let it go. But the whole thing with that girl—
What was her name? Right, Tori.
Something about her is really starting to piss me off.
But that’s a problem for future me. Present me has to catch up with Dean.