Z... Wake me before it is over

There is no definable shape to it when it comes. No discernable
pattern that I can recall. But always it comes and no manner of
prevention will ever stop it. It is as certain as death itself, yet
death would be a far better prospect. Death is definable. Death is
discernable. Death is the ultimate release whereas this only stifles
and suffocates me.
Often I try avoidance, but of course how can I avoid the inevitable.
It will surely take a grip on me until it chokes the resistance from me
and I succumb to its will and the horrors it forces upon me. I am its
puppet and it manipulates my strings so perfectly - moulding me into
whatever simpering being it wishes me to be. It consumes me with a
flameless fire that drains my soul leaving me empty and shallow when it
has ended its game and cast me back into the sea of reality.
I am a fighter; of a warrior-breed that knows resistance and how to
employ it for the good of all. Face me against a man twice my size, arm
me with a just cause and I will battle until I win. I am resolute.
Words are the strongest weapons in my arsenal, but agility of wit is
matched with agility of body and my strength belies the frailty of the
man who waits for the inevitable to arrive.
I know when it is near. I sense its approach and my body and mind
react - fighting its initial efforts to suck me into its void. All is
futile for I know that defeat will finally come and I will be subjected
to those torments and tribulations again. I pray to all the Gods that
humanity has devised that they will spare me from this constant
suffering. Allow me respite once in a while. But all the Gods and
Demigods and every other Supreme Being are insignificant in comparison
to it. It is greater than Them. It is greater than man and all his
imaginings.
Once I did not fear it. I welcomed it to me with gratefulness. It used
to treat me well and I felt safe and secure with it. I never chased
after it though. Often I wanted it. Often I needed it. But also I often
kept it at bay. It was neither a friend nor an enemy at that time when
I did not fear it. I took it for granted. Abused it. Only ever sought
it when it suited my purpose. How I wish those times were here
again.
Now I hate it. I no longer take it for granted, nor do I abuse it. Yet
it leaves me a broken man every time it visits me. For three years now
it has been the same. There are no doors or windows I can bar to keep
it away from me. It stalks me night and day, invading my consciousness,
killing me in frozen moments of time that seem eternal, but are over
with the passing of a single breath when I return abruptly from within
the folds of its dark cloak.
The terrors that await me within its grasp are really the things I
fear most. It would be harmless in itself if it were benign, as it was
before. It creeps and slithers and crawls and runs and flies and always
it finds me no matter where I hide. It seeks me out so that it can
torture my mind and I am powerless.
I can feel its presence now. I know it is coming for me. The signs are
so strong. One day I will cheat it. I will use the ultimate defence
against it. Death is the final answer. Death is the only refuge.
It is tightening its grip on me now. I feel it upon me. I feel the
beads of fear leaking from my body. The knowledge of the horrors that
await me gives me strength to try and fight it. I struggle. I loosen
its grip on me and try to run away from it. Yet it is swifter than me.
It always overtakes me. It has me again and begins to crush me. Darkens
my vision and dulls my senses. I struggle again briefly, but knowing
the futility of my efforts I finally succumb to its menace. Sleep
engulfs me and the terrible nightmares begin again.