It is 5 am and I cannot sleep. I’m in an Italian hostel in Napoli and from the corner of the dorm where I fight to sleep, a choir of snores emanate from slack-jawed maws of absolute despair. Each harmonises with the other to create a perfect, relentless tide of spirit-crushing hell. It is a living nightmare.
To the person in the furthermost corner, I apologise for including you amidst this bunch but, then again, you do snore too and it is fucking annoying. It’s unpleasant on my ears but I suppose it’s largely bearable. It pales in comparison to the pure psychological torment of your companions.
To the pair right of the corner, fuck you. I hate you. I hate you with all the hate I have to give in my lifetime.
The one on the left is like a human clock made entirely out of guttural sounds and misery. This is swiss-engineered snoring. Precise. Unfailing. Utterly relentless. Your clockwork snore is the equivalent of Chinese Water Torture – less violently awful on a per snore basis than your comrade, but still a mechanical horror of the modern age. It never stops, nor can I ever see it stopping. Rolls, position changes, weird mouth movements; all somehow fail to interrupt the tick-tock process of hate screaming out of your gaping maw of a face. You defy science. You defy sleep. You defy morality.
Like your friend to your right, your scream has an uncanny ability to penetrate even the denset of protection. Three layers of pillows (two stolen from a common room sofa during an earlier stint sitting there and contemplaing the nightmare my existence had temporarily become) are no match for your ability to pound your way unfailingly into my ears. Even listening to music required a volume of at least three-quarters full in order to truly drown out the cacophany of hate and snores streaming out of your faces.
To the sleeper on the right, I am actually considering writing you a passive aggressive note in the morning (or rather, later in the morning) informing you of the extent your nasal violence has affected me. The man on the left is a form of calculated, machine-like evil. You are base chaos. You are nihilistic snoring. The sense of absolute hopelessness and desolation you instil in me with every haggard intake of breath is a modern wonder. It is a holocaust of respiratory action. You know the moment in The Fifth Element when Leelo discovers ‘WAR’ on the computer? That is the same kind of absolute emotional devastation you have inflicted on me for the past 3 hours. Your snoring….I…can’t even describe the pain it causes. I genuinely hate that you exist. I feel like your snores are like you speaking in tongues and when I translate it in my mind it is nothing but screams and predictions of the death of me and everything I love. I feel like nothing can be good again when you breathe. I feel like there is no point to anything.
I can’t think of anything that has made me feel so resoundingly broken and disconsolate. It’s like every time you breathe you strangle my new puppy. You roll, you move furiously throughout the night, and you ocassionally close your mouth. This is no comfort. This is equally horrifying as the anticipation of the next nightmarish sound to exit begins. It is almost inevitably proceeded by a mouth opening and a deafiningly loud swallowing. It honestly sounds like what I imagine a death rattle to sound like. That is the kind of haggard, raw, necrotic sounding throat scratching you create. Then comes the thunderous wave of snores again. Utterly random and without explanation. Your snores laugh in the face of science. They achieve volumes I deemed impossible. They are a Nazgul scream that pierces the very depths of my soul. Other snores I’ve experienced have been an irritation, yours is genuinely emotionally harrowing.
Finally, beside me, is my brother. Less apocalyptically horrifying, you nonetheless clear your throat like someone dragging their nail down the metaphorical blackboard of my soul. That clearing of crap from your tonsils is profoundly disgusting. You also snore quite badly too.
It’s now half 5. People are waking up. Seagulls are crying their own horrible cry. Light is beginning to penetrate into sleeping eyes. I’m not sleeping tonight.
Goddamn you. Goddamn every last one of you.