The following is a poem about this experience:
Inside this box I sit, the world surrounding me. I see people, the street, the sky above me. ... This damn glass box follows me.
There is a distance between us. It is one you cannot see. I know it is there because it keeps me from fully engaging.
I listen to you. I hear the words you share. I am there. I am there with my glass box, the one that is invisible to you. Inside my body coils as my mind wanders to a place of sleep and peace. I hear you but I want to close my eyes. I walk down the street, but I want to lay down to sleep.
This glass box keeps me from moving freely, sucking my energy, despite how many hours of sleep. Eight hours...? That is a joke. The box requires more. It holds you hostage as you watch others go about their day with physical ease.
I am trapped but unseen. From the outside I look fine, somewhat sluggish, and maybe a little lazy. This glass box hides its evil from the world, but I know it. I know the need to drink cups and cups of caffeine to get through the day, the need to nap and lay down by noon everyday.
How do I break this invisible box? That is the problem. Nobody really knows. I am bound by the rules of this box... to rest and sleep as much as it requires, so much of it not in my control.
I yearn for a moment of life outside this box. What's it like out there? Let me out please... How can I shatter the glass boundaries of this disease? What has happened to my energy? I do not know, but I need to sleep now please...