My insides are splintering

“My insides are splintering and Im afraid if I sleep I will have nightmares again” I say to the friend who jokingly asked why I wasnt asleep since its passed my bed time(I usually go to sleep super early, its 2am)

“Haha did you eat wood” he playfully responds

“No, it was forced down my throat” I say.

“…right” is all he responds. Because, again, I have turned our playful banter to depressing talk. Because again I’ve brought up a conversation that he doesn’t want to hear about. Because he expects that next I will bring “him” up. But I wont bring “him” up, because I know that my friend doesnt want to hear about it again.

For now we will talk about nightlights and other childish solutions to a not so childish problem, if anything, maybe, this can serve as a distraction.

Yet still, my insides are splintering and I cant sleep because Im afraid the nightmares that stopped over a year ago are going to return.

Because my insides are splintering.