I can't really say when sleep became an issue for me. Maybe I always was a light sleeper. Maybe the long evenings spent studying during my time in University made things worse. 

Things weren't always that bad, though. That I can say.

I think my troubles really started when I moved in the Block. My parents worked for the big kelp farms in Sp. Luker's docks. They wanted me to get out of the manual job, because you know: "the key to happiness is an office job", all that nonsense. In any case, they were delighted when I was accepted to study calligraphy and secretarial skills in the Librarial University, and did all they could to get me a decent room close to the library grounds. During these times I worked late, and partied even later. Still, I don't recall having any trouble falling into slumber as soon as my head hit the straw pillow.

Anyway, I'm losing track. After my studies, I found a job as an assistant secretary for a small printing press union. Housing is always hard in Merinos and I didn't feel like going back to my parents, so I opted for renting a room under the roofs in the south of the Library district. I was surrounded by other rooms, or small flats occupied by workers, humans and birds alike. And the walls were... well, to say they were paper thin wouldn't do it honour. In fact, I rather think the walls acted like a resonance box. I was hearing my neighbors. All the time. I could hear the marital arguements from the couple next door, the nearby perrot family teaching their fledgling to sing... I could even hear the sizzle of worms cooking from the condori kitchen at the end of the corridor, can you believe that?

I lasted two seasons in that room. I mean, I would have left even earlier if I could, you know how it is: one-season notice before leaving and all that.

My second flat was a bit better, I suppose. It was not that far away, a bit further from my work place but that was actually alright. I even had two separate rooms: one for cooking and one for sleeping! The first few nights were great. By the spirits, even the first workdoze was okay! I hadn't sleep properly for a pretty long time, it felt like breeze to just lay down and fall asleep in silence.

Sadly, I started to hear people again. It was not as strong as before, though. Just whispers, small bits of discussions I could hear coming from the walls. I'm sure it wouldn't even have bothered me in the past! Well now, it did. I would focus on the voices, and some rage would start to boil inside me, to the point where I couldn't sleep.

I tried to use beeswax-based earplugs. It work really well, for a while. Of course it was mildly unconfortable to wear, but that was a price I was more than ready to pay for a peaceful night.

That wasn't the end of my troubles, though. Of course it wasn't. Otherwise I wouldn't be writing to you now, would I?

See, the plugs kept falling during the night. It didn't bother me at first, because I was fast asleep when they did, and I couldn't hear whatever voice was coming from the surrounding flats. However, as time passed, I supposed I got used to even more silence than before. As soon as the plug fell, I would hear voices and whispers around again, until my inevitable awakening.

This became an issue as well. For some reason, the plugs were nowhere to be found whenever I woke up. I could find them during the day, of course, but at night, they were just... gone. Does that make sense? It probably doesn't.

I tried to tire myself as much as possible before going to sleep, I figured it could help me stay asleep at night. Didn't quite work, but that was all I could think of. That's how I met that weird doctor.

They called themselves "Sandmann", or something like that. Funny name, for a Perrot. They approached me as I was walking, which was a bit odd, given how I looked like a disheveled husk and was lurking in the sort of street where you don't just approach strangers. 

I don't quite remember what they told me, but they seemed to understand my pain. They handed me a small box that looked like the sort of thing to store enchanted items, saying it would ease my troubles. At first I was suspicious. I definitely couldn't afford an enchanted item, not with my job. But the doctor insisted it was for free. They told me that the only thing they sold was the repairing of the item, or the medical consultations.

I suppose I should have been more suspicious. No one gives you something for free, not in Merinos. And certainly not an enchanted item. But I needed some sleep, and some silence. Like, I really needed it. My head was pounding.

As I got home, I opened the box. It contained two small items that looked like wooden earplug, with some sort articulated sprigs that attached to my my lobes. Once attached, it almost looked like a small spider had nested in my ears.

That night, I slept wonderfully. No whispers, no voices, nothing. And the spider plugs didn't fall! In fact, I slept so well that I only woke up around midday, and had to rush to work. I only noticed the earplugs were still as I sat in my office, and I didn't really register the fact that I had to pull slightly harder than expected to get them out.

The following night was just as great. The spider-like earplugs were even easier to attach than before, and seemed to cover noises even more completely. As I woke up freshly rested, though, I started to notice something was up. The earplugs were definitely harder to pull off than they should have been. And to my horror, as I got them out, I started to hear whispers and voices from across the walls. 

This is how things evolved over the next few days. Every morning, the earplugs seemed just a bit harder to get rid of. And, as soon as they were off, I was assaulted by the outside world's cacophony. I could hear every whisper, every plumbing movement, every laughter in the whole neighborhood. And I could not get my mind out of it. 

It wasn't so bad, though. at least, I felt much more awake, much better rested, than before.

That's also why I consider it a conscious, deliberate decision not to remove the earplugs one morning.

It hurt, the following few days. Of course it did. Whatever those earplugs were, they were digging their way through my ears. But still, I kept them on. If that was the price for peace and silence, fine by me.

I'm pretty sure I've ruptured my eardrums by now. Still, I won't get them off. I just know that outside, somehow, the noise is still waiting for me.