It is 00.51 and I have kept the light on. It is 00.51 and I have kept the light on and I feel sick because I have eaten too much.

It is 00.52 and I feel sick and the light is on and I have eaten too much and I think I still love you. My legs are pale in this light. I am pale in this light. I have eaten too much.

It is 00.53 and I am trying not to sleep. I was eaten in my dream last night so I am trying not to sleep. It is 00.53 and I am trying not to sleep.

It is 00.54 and I am trying not to think about you and I have hidden you on facebook and you ate me in my dream. It was The Road. I am too heartbroken to come up with my own dreams. I am trying not to sleep.

It is 00.55 and I am trying not to sleep and I’ve been slipping in and out of reality since we broke up. I have spent more time out since we broke up. My dreams seem more and more real. My life seems more and more dreamlike. I am trying not to sleep.

It is 00.56 and we have stopped talking. I have sent you an email. We have stopped talking. You have stopped talking to me. I will get a call tomorrow and will explain that I am trying not to sleep. I feel sad. It is 00.56 and I am trying not to sleep.

It is 00.57 and I have a slight headache and I saw a photo of you and you were smiling and I don’t think I’ve smiled since we stopped seeing each other. It is 00.57 and I feel sick because I am eating too much and getting fat. I am pale and unattractive.

It is 00.58 and I am not sure where I am. I am somewhere. I don’t know where. I am dreading my dreams again. It is 00.58 and I need to sleep but I don’t want to sleep. It is 00.58 and I miss you but you don’t miss me.

It is 00.59 and there is every chance you are smiling at someone else. I want that smile to be mine. It is not mine. It was your teeth that tore into my flesh. I am not friends with my subconscious. It is 00.59 and I still miss you.

It is 1.00 and I should get into bed. I am sitting in my dead Grandmother’s chair. I am in the underwear you made me buy. You said you thought it looked sexy but I think you were joking. I look pale and fat and lonely.

It is 1.01 and my headache is getting worse. My headache is getting worse because I need to sleep. I don’t want to sleep. Sleeping is stressful. I will get a call tomorrow.

It is 1.02 and I will get a call tomorrow. They will ask me how I am even though they know the answer and I will not be honest. It is 1.02 and I realise I will get the call today. After I have slept.

It is 1.03 and they will make me better. You will not make me better, although you did. I am worse now though. I can still feel your teeth in my skin. It is weird that that is what I should remember.

It is 1.04 and I am thinking about your house. I am thinking about your house and how it was nearly our house. You called it ours and I corrected you. Maybe that was why we fell apart. I don’t want to sleep but I feel sick.

It is 1.05 and I feel sick. I feel sick and I have a headache. I am scared of sleeping but I need to sleep. I am scared of sleeping. I am scared of what will get dredged up tonight. It is 1.05 and I am scared and sick and shivering. It is 1.05 and I am scared.

It is 1.06 and I can feel my mind and body calmly separate. How sad I feel is tied in to how many people talk to me on the Internet.

It is 1.07 and I am sad and scared and alone and fat and pale in the unguarded light of my childhood bedroom. I miss your bed which used to be our bed. I miss you. I love you and I miss you. I feel sick and I am scared of sleeping.

It is 1.08 and I am listening to ambient music and regulating my breathing and writing and typing. I am trying to feel better. I am trying to be happy. You would have loved me if I were happy. It is 1.08 and you would have loved me if I was happy.

It is 1.09 and the tops of my thighs are sweating from the heat of my laptop. I am nearly naked and only you know how disgusting that is to behold. I am scared of sleeping. I will die alone. I will die alone in the near future.

It is 1.10 and I am scared of sleeping. It is 1.10 and I feel sick. I am trying to breathe. I am trying to remember to do what I was told. I am scared of sleeping. I am scared that I am stuck. It is 1.10 and I am stuck.

It is 1.11 and I am feeling scared of everything now and I don’t see the point of crying alone but if I did I’d be doing it now. I don’t see the point and I am scared. I want to cling to you like a child and have you stroke my hair although I know my body would shake at your touch.

It is 1.12 and I want to cry in front of you one last time. When the tears were flowing I was at last being honest and you saw me for what I was. I am having baths. I am sitting in the warm liquid trying to remember when I was in the womb and probably felt safe. Maybe I was scared then.

It is 1.13 and I have stopped feeling. I am in a state of permanent post-shock. I near robotic. I am no longer human. I have gone. I am outside the normal. No-one has noticed but I am outside the normal.

It is 1.14 and I want to sleep. It is 1.14 and I can’t sleep. I haven’t tried to sleep because I am scared. I am outside the normal. I am not normal.

It is 1.15 and I wish you were here so we could listen to I Wish You Were Here. I am alone. I am alone. I am scared and alone. I don’t want to sleep.

It is 1.16 and I don’t feel anything. Do you remember the first time we kissed? It was not a good kiss. Is that why you don’t love me? We hardly had the perfect start. The end was almost surgical.

It is 1.17 and you removed neatly, a slight incision. I am scared of my slight incisions that sit upon my left thigh for when I couldn’t cry. I was bleeding in your shower. I was bleeding in your shower.

It is 1.18 and you were deciding not to love me while I was bleeding in your shower. You decided not to love me. I understand. I am a mess. I am a mess. It is 1.18 and I am awake and alone and scared of sleeping. I am a mess.

It is 1.19 and I have got an email. This makes me feel better but i could hardly feel worse. I have got two emails. My pale thighs are sweating, dear. No-one else quite appreciated the joke that is my body the way you did.

It is 1.20 and I am thinking of all the times you mocked my Ashkenazi nose. You told me about your childhood friend who you were in love with being able to pull off a long nose without looking ridiculous.

It is 1.21 and I am scared of sleeping. I am scared of sleeping. I am scared of sleeping. I will be shaking and quivering and I will wake up feeling not refreshed but scared. I am out. I am no longer normal. I am out. I am out.

It is 1.22 and I can’t sleep. It is 1.22 and I will waste my life on the Internet because it is wasted already. I am having stomach cramps again. It is 1.22 and I am scared of sleeping. It is 1.22 and I am scared. It is 1.22 and I am scared.

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J.D.A. Winslow is an English artist and writer. His work appears on New Wave Vomit and frequently on his own blog. ‘Tuesday 26 July 00.51-1.22am’ is a finalist for The Best Short Writing in the World 2011.