This story is titled Insomnia.

I stepped into the dark hallway, and stumbled around a bit before finally finding the light switch. I nearly panicked, as if the panel had been moved through the wall, but I know such things are idiotic, and impossible. Although i’ve lived here for a year I feel like a stranger. I look down my hall, it’s pictures on the left-hand side, a wall-to-wall window on the right. the window is what I feared most, for someone could easily be standing out there, the trees block out all of the light. As I walk down to my bedroom, i see the pictures hung up on the wall out of the corner of my eye, I had them all memorized, my 10-year old son Michael, camping in the desert, my wedding with jennifer, I knew them all. My bedroom is at the opposite of the hall, almost watching me with the oak wood door half open like a crooked smile. eventually, i dragged myself to my bedroom, it, like the hallway, had been nearly pitch black. At least the switch is right by the door. I look over to the lamp by my bed, the alarm clock read 4:12AM. I barely noticed the time, not that I can even pay attention anymore. My whole life has become a random swirl of mondays & thursdays, wednesdays & sundays. I wouldn’t even be able to tell weekend from weekday if my neighbors still worked on the weekends. colors have also faded, everything so dark, so depressing. The only thing that keeps me awake now is me. I wish constantly for the pleasure of dreams, to be gone from this world, even for a small time. The drugs help, but only for a while. As long as they’re supplied, i’ll take ‘em. A little’s better than nothing, right?I’m going to go try to take some, maybe a miracle could happen…

March 18th, 2005

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The pain of going through life has become unbearable, I feel i’m going insane, everywhere I look, everything I see seems wrong, out of place. I can’t even make breakfast without breaking into a cold sweat. I can’t stand it, this house, it’s wrong, it’s like it’s alive, torturing me by robbing me of my dreams, killing me from the inside. Sadly, it’s winning. 3 Days ago I bought a handgun, a small one, .22 to be exact. I don’t want to make too much of a waste. Now i’m sitting in my garage trying to make it easier for them to clean out my body. But why should I care, I shouldn’t help them, goddamn it, I should kill THEM! They deserve it, their whole ****ing lives they were deserving it! They were unfit from the start, and i’ll be damned if i’m not taking them with me!!!!!!

June 24th, 2005

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Channel 12 news at 6 presents a very grim case. Recently, a man wielding a .22 handgun shot and killed 5 paramedics and a nurse in a local hospital, before turning the gun on himself. The shooter has been identified as a 33-year old Frank West, a respected member of the community. His neighbors reported waking up to his loud noises during the late nights, sometimes even screaming at the top of his lungs for hours. His doctor had also reported saying that Frank had suffered from insomnia, and had, quote: “just snapped”. When police has checked through his house to possibly find any evidence on why he committed the crime, they found a journal with only two entries that were related to the crime. We are not allowed to broadcast the entries, but are available to be viewed at our website, do be warned, the language is explicit in the second entry.