Journal Entry 1:18 AM

The room is quiet except for the pulse behind my eyes.
I haven’t slept in two nights… maybe three.

There’s an eye on the wall — a clock face staring back, unblinking.
Its glass catches the faint light in the room like it knows something I’m still pretending not to admit.

Sleep doesn’t visit here anymore.

Every time I close my eyes, the same feeling returns.
Not that something outside is watching —
but that part of the mind that never shuts down.

The one that records everything.
Every thought.
Every flicker between exhaustion and surrender.

I used to think the eye on the wall was mine.

Tonight I’m not so sure.