I knew that I was exhausted, but this is getting out of hand. Or at least it feels that way. I think of that moment of bewilderment after waking up, unable to process the time that has elapsed. Only by looking at the time are you able to reorient yourself. It’s that feeling, but its constant, and with no end in sight.

I still haven’t woken up. It’s odd enough that I know that I’m still sleeping. Often, the moment I wish to wake up, I do. But it still hasn’t happened. I’m probably worried for nothing, after all, an unprecedented bout of insomnia would likely precede an unprecedented rest. I did already decide that I would take the day off if needed. That’s how focused I am on recuperating.

Yet, as time passes by whatever rate it chooses, I can’t stop myself from worrying. I still haven’t been able to find any sign of him. I’ve looked every place that I can think of, and I’m beginning to think that he must have gone for good. I can’t bring myself to go back to his old space.

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Physical sensations are somewhat abstract when I’m deep in my own head, but I shake the feeling I had the last time I was there. It was an overwhelming presence, one that was both sinister and immediate. It felt as if something was getting closer with each movement I made.

I put off returning there for as long as I could. But after so long without stimulation, the curiosity overpowered that sense of foreboding. That confidence lasted right up until I entered his space and saw what remained.

Everything in the room had withered. It’s hard to describe an empty room that has been drained of all life, when one could argue that there was no life there to begin with. What was left behind lacked color and structure. It looked like the shed skin of a snake. Reminiscent of what it once held, but now lacking the very life that had made it.

I left a moment later. It did not seem worthwhile to remain in such a hostile place when he was nowhere to be found. I need to wake up soon, before something truly disastrous happens.