One Eye Open - Illustrated
Chapter One: The First Howl
I learned
to sleep
with one eye
open,
not because
I wanted to,
but because
the wolves
kept finding
me
in the dark.
At first
they came
only
sometimes.
A distant
howl
in the hills.
A shape
between
the trees.
A sound
outside
the window
that could
almost
be mistaken
for the wind.
Back then,
I could still
convince
myself
they were
not real.
Chapter Two: They Learned My Name
They learned
the sound
of my
footsteps,
the shape
of my
fears,
the exact
moments
when I was
already
weak.
They came
on quiet
nights,
when the world
was asleep
and there
was no one
left
to keep
watch
with me.
They came
after long
days
when my body
already
ached
from pretending
to be
fine.
After
too many
smiles.
After
too many
"I'm okay"s.
The wolves
always
knew.
Chapter Three: Pretending to Be Fine
They came
after long
days
when my body
already
ached
from pretending
to be
fine.
After
too many
smiles.
After
too many
"I'm okay"s.
After
too many
hours
spent trying
to convince
the world
I was not
falling
apart.
The wolves
always
knew.
Anxiety
was the first
one.
Thin.
Fast.
Restless.
Chapter Four: The Restless Wolf
Anxiety
was the first
one.
Thin.
Fast.
Restless.
It paced
circles
around
my bed,
growling
at every
sound,
every
shadow,
every
memory,
every
tomorrow.
It told me
the door
was unlocked.
That my heart
was beating
wrong.
That everyone
hated me.
That something
terrible
was coming
and I had
somehow
missed
the signs.
Chapter Five: The Waiting Wolf
Depression
was
different.
It did not
chase.
It waited.
A larger
wolf.
Slower.
Heavier.
It sat
in the corner
of the room
with its
yellow eyes
fixed
on me,
watching
me grow
tired
from fighting
the other
one.
It knew
exhaustion
would do
what teeth
could not.
It knew
eventually
I would
stop
running.
Chapter Six: One Eye Open
So I learned
to sleep
with one eye
open.
I learned
which floorboards
creaked.
Which nights
were worse.
Which lies
to tell
people
so they
would not
ask questions.
I learned
how to smile
with shaking
hands.
How to laugh
while there
were teeth
at my
throat.
And the
cruelest
part
is this:
The wolves
never fully
leave.
Chapter Seven: Beyond the Firelight
Even
on the
good days,
I still
search
the tree
line.
I still
listen
for growling
inside
every
silence.
I still
wake up
tired
from battles
that happened
only
in my
own mind.
People
tell me,
"You survived."
As if
survival
is the same
thing
as peace.
Chapter Eight: Survival Is Not Peace
But surviving
just means
the wolves
did not
get me
yesterday.
It does
not mean
they are
gone.
It does
not mean
they are
not out
there now,
just beyond
the firelight,
waiting
for me
to finally
close
both eyes.
Epilogue: Waiting for Sleep
Maybe
one day
I will
close
both eyes
without
listening
for footsteps.
Without
counting
heartbeats.
Without
searching
the darkness
for yellow
eyes.
Maybe
one day
the silence
will finally
feel
like silence
again.
Until then,
I will
keep
the fire
burning.
And hope
that someday
I remember
what peaceful
sleep
feels
like.
