Insomnia. The inability to sleep. That desperate want to close your eyes and wake up feeling completely and utterly refreshed. Not that every morning I woke up feeling that way when I was sleeping on a regular sort of schedule. It was more of a plus for me. Nature telling me to have a good day. The past few days, however, nature was giving me a big fat middle finger. A big fuck you.
Why do you need to sleep? What makes YOU so special? 
Special?
Me?
I don't think I have ever felt that way. I guess I'd consider myself to be "humble" for lack of a better word. I just kind of exist to move things forward, not really feeling like I'm improving much of anything in the world. I'm just here. Right here. Right now. I am in no way a saint; or a martyr. 
My schedule consists of waking up, eating breakfast, preparing my lunch for the day, brushing my teeth, jerking off (if I have a few extra minutes), getting dressed and then heading to my place of employment. 8 hours of meaningless, mind-numbing, draining work before I head on back home. I eat dinner, jerk off again (if I'm in the mood to do so), find something online to watch and pass the time until I sleep again, resetting the entire schedule. 
But now, with lack of sleep added to the mix, the days drag on with no end in sight. My brain feels like a swollen, heavy weight resting deep inside of my head. My eyes are like two small balls eager to pop out of their sockets and bounce into the head of another who will give them some reprieve. 
2:16am.
That's what my clock reads. I should be dreaming strange, yet intriguing dreams right about now. Instead, my eyes are wide open and staring straight into the deep black that is my ceiling. It's a cream color in the daytime, but the nights here just blend everything together into that calming nothingness. A sigh escapes my muzzle as I sit up and wipe the pretend "sleep" from my eyes. They sting something fierce, but there's nothing to be done. I must want something. Maybe, I think, I just need some sort of fulfillment; a sense of satisfaction that will finally put me to rest. 
Letting my paws travel from my face, they finally make a stop in between my legs. Of course this part of me is awake. It almost always is. No matter how tired I am, it takes no time whatsoever to get me worked up. There are days I feel like I could fuck every single fur I pass by. Not that I do. I'm not that easy. I have standards. Sort of. 
My sheath thickens as I begin to squeeze, letting that tingling sensation wash over me. If you don't know the joy of masturbation, I truly feel sorry for you. It is easily the cheapest, most efficient stress reliever one can treat themselves to. Massages are supposed to be even better, but I really doubt they can even match that sweet release. There is nothing else like it.
However, there is one thing that's been going through my mind these past few days. Something I have only read about or heard from others in secret. It can only be achieved once in a lifetime, but it's supposed to feel at least 10x more intense then just shooting your load all over stomach. 
But as I think about it, my head starts to hurt. What if I regret the decision to do it? What if I miss it too much? The idea of it though, not being there, makes my cock harden and slip itself completely from my sheath. A small gasp escapes my muzzle as I begin to stroke myself. Slowly at first, but gaining momentum with every other stroke. In the darkness, my eyes stare at my dresser. I know what's in there. I put it in there a few days ago, but my courage kept slipping away. 
No wonder you haven't been sleeping.
Yeah, that is it. That is why. I have been trying not to think about it, but it's clouding my mind more and more each day. Man up. Man the fuck up. Just do it. Imagine just how sweet it will feel. Once you do it just clean yourself up and sleep peacefully. Enjoy your dreams once again. 
I take a deep breath, let it out and reach out to open the drawer. Pulling it out slowly, I reach in and grasp the handle. It feels cool against my paw and a lot heavier than it should. My uncertainty is about to take over, but I won't let it. Not this time. I want to sleep again. I need to sleep. Sleep. 
The excitement of it all gives me an adrenaline rush. I feel like I'm about to cum, but I don't. I want to feel it all. The maximum intensity. Every last swipe. 
Gripping my cock, the darkness having completely overwhelmed me, I press the sharp blade of the knife against the base of my cock and begin to saw it back and forth. Every synapse fire off at once, causing me to nearly pass out. I held on though and just as the last bit of meat separated from my body, I felt it. Just like they said it would feel. 10x more intense. I'd easily go 20. 
Blood was leaking onto the bed, but it would stop eventually. Hopefully it wouldn't put me into a permanent sleep, I really doubt it would. There were no more worries in my head and suddenly I could feel my eyes grow heavy. A sense of satisfaction and completion that weren't there before took me and snuggled me into its warm embrace. And with that satisfaction, that intrusive piece no longer part of me, no longer holding me down, no longer keeping me up at night, I drifted off to sleep. And my dreams? They were beautiful.