Mata Terpejam Tapi Tidak Bisa Tidur Novels & Stories

It looks like a face screaming. He doesn’t sleep.

All we need is a few hours of sleep before tomorrow morning rolls around, but ten damn minutes later, I’m already tossing and turning like crazy because sleep just refuses to fucking come. Lucas turns toward me, resting his head on his arm while watching me struggle on the bed. “You alright, Aria?” I let out a heavy sigh, rubbing my eyes. “I don’t know. I’ve been trying to sleep, but it’s just not fucking happening. My brain won’t shut up. I keep thinking about Moon River and whatever the hell we’re gonna walk into once we get there.” “It’s normal to feel like that. I’m feeling the same way too,” he says, laying back on the pillow and staring at the ceiling like it’s got all the answers.

You’ll have to get up early so you can ride home with me when I go to work in the morning. Sierra slept little that night. Bone-tired, she lay in her bed, her eyes wide open. She tried to push from her mind the memory of Matt’s having been here with her, the joy of their uninhibited lovemaking. She couldn’t think of him now, but he seemed to have left an indelible impression between the sheets.

I laid on my bed, staring at the ceiling. I feel happy. Why was I holding back again? Everything is just fine. There's nothing to worry about. He was just forced to do it by his father. Matteo lived in fear. I was in the same position for hours and I can't sleep. The butterflies on my stomach are keeping me awake. I tried to fall asleep by reading some books but I am distracted the whole time. I just want to be with him again. I missed my Matteo so much. I stood up from my bed, knocked on his door. I looked at the clock and figured it was 1 in the morning. Matteo opened the door, seems not able to sleep like me.

The clock was ticking ten past three and he was still unable to sleep. Reluctantly, he fell upon the bed and rested an arm over his forehead, staring at the lofty ceiling. Matsyaa's face moved untiringly in front of his eyes. After he'd come home, he envisioned her on the dining table, eating with him. He saw her in his bedroom, making their bed, and even now, he felt she was caressing his forehead.

However, Ajax, nestled in the neighboring sleeper bed, was far from finding the same solace. He often struggled with restless nights and bouts of insomnia, but tonight felt particularly challenging. The small, cramped bed was uncomfortable, and the constant rumble of the train seemed to amplify every thought swirling in his mind. Gwyneth's earlier words echoed in his ears, replaying her concerns and reflections like a broken record.

She stopped at the edge of the bed. “Are you sleeping?” “No.” “Are you tired?” “Not really.” That was a complete and utter lie. I couldn’t sleep last night because I saw her every time I closed my eyes. It wasn’t a bad thing. It was just the things that we were doing that had me awake. I knew if I closed my eyes, I’d see those wonderful things but wake up to realize they weren’t happening. She didn’t want me that way, which was the part I didn’t want to deal with. I had to face it every day without my dreams, making it worse.

Lina tried to pull her hands away but she had no strength for whatever it was that the damn woman jabbed her arm. She was panting and groaning as she panicked, fighting the drowsiness she was feeling. ‘I can’t fall asleep!’ She screamed in her head. The thought of the nightmare if she falls asleep keeps her fighting the sleepiness she was feeling.

Anything is better than being in that nightmare. But the movies and shows are boring too, and I need to be alert at work. Fuck it, I should try to sleep whether I have nightmares or not. But I'm lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, and I can't seem to fall asleep. I close my eyes and try to clear my mind, but my thoughts keep racing. I feel restless and uneasy, and I just can't seem to get comfortable. I start to feel frustrated and anxious. I know that I need to get some sleep, but it seems like the more I want it, the more elusive it becomes. I roll over and try a different position, but nothing seems to work.

I could feel someone was here with me, or… was it my imagination playing games at me? I yawned tiredly. I didn’t sleep last night, and the weight of it was strongly telling on me. “You’re probably overthinking again, Clara. You should get some sleep.” As I entered the room, I met Mateo sitting on the bed, going through printed photos. “What kept you so long?” He asked, not sparing me a glance. “I couldn’t get myself to sleep, so I thought it’s better I just kept myself busy with a cup of tea.”