Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-24339138-20150110190457

Autonomous Sensory Meridian Response, a phenomenon characterized for its tingling sensation. I receive these tingles when listening to unique sounds such as fingers tapping on a surface, plastic packaging being crinkled and most commonly ear to ear whispering.

The phenomenon has become immensely popular online. You've probably stumbled upon some of these videos before; haircut and doctor role-plays, a pair of hands slowly unboxing something, maybe a selection of items being tapped? Many users record videos whispering into two microphones, allowing the brains of their viewers to be softly tingled by the soothing vocals. For lack of a better description I'd say it feels like soda fizzing underneath your skin, the bubbles massaging your scalp and leaving you in a mellow state.

I've been troubled with poor sleep since my early teens, a night that ended before mid-morning could have been fiction for all I knew. Ever since I discovered ASMR, falling asleep has become effortless, I plug myself into my phone, select a video and within minutes I'm no longer awake.

The following morning I'll feel at ease, refreshed and lacking any of the irritable struggles to leave the bed and general bodily misery that sleepless nights had made me accustomed to. It was a foolproof plan but I was deadly afraid of falling back into the practice of habitual sleeplessness. This meant no late nights, no parties and to always make sure I had a video or playlist ready with familiar triggers.

My scheduled nights weren't necessarily a problem until I became worried of my brain growing resistant. If a video worked, it wouldn't be uncommon to watch it again but once it became too regularly viewed I became less and less engaged.

This led me to using it purely as background noise, ridding me of the sensation and replacing it with a recognition for emptiness. I would be alone with my thoughts yet at the same time feeling a sense of publicity, similar to that of being on the bus or subway, I was by myself but feeling observed, silently discussed. Agoraphobia in bed lacks the briefcases or pushchairs that scream humanity, leaving me feeling as if I were being watched by something else.

Thankfully this stress wasn't having a large effect on my sleep, I was only waking up in a bad state. I was growing increasingly tired throughout the days, I work with customers and the pressure of saying the exact right thing whilst presenting myself the exact right way truly exhausts me. I was dealing with an elderly couple who seemed to refuse to read the instruction manuals for their electronics. They spoke in a fashion as if I were the cause for all of their difficulties, their products worked fine and I was doing my best to describe how to operate them.

My attempts to provide explanations and options in a polite manner were damaged as my tiredness pulled at my smile, leaving my face in an unimpressed frown. It was as if any mask of enthusiasm I tried to paint on was wiped off, the truth was an unsightly blemish decorating my face.

As I spoke, the four eyes stared at me, I could feel the disapprobation in their minds. It was as if I could hear their thoughts whispering into my ears, their old chapped lips spitting saliva and chunks of chewed food up from the back of their throats deep into my ears. I imagined the fluid going deep into my canals, fattening up my pulsing brain till my skull could no longer contain it. I needed sleep.

As soon as I left work I had an urge to go back, I felt as if I hadn't completed something or worse lost something of mine. My extreme tiredness allowed me to shrug it off and I continued home. The chilling winter weather and the reports of scheduled snow made the warmth of my bed seem all the more comforting. As soon as I walked through the door I headed upstairs and prepared for sleep.

I lay down in bed, facing the wall and silence until my heavy eyelids closed and the whispering began. I could feel the vibrations of sleep starting as I listened intently to the soft spoken whispers. The stresses of the day washed off as the low voice gently caressed my brain, tingling down my shoulders and spine.

As I pulled myself out of bed the following morning I noticed my throbbing headache. I looked out my window and grumbled as I saw it had snowed that night. In between the fiery pulses of my migraine I could feel an itchy tingling, as if ravenous insects were crawling underneath my skin, chewing on my nerves. I placed a finger into my ear to scratch but quickly removed it as I felt the wetness of my inner ear, the roof of the canal was dripping with moisture.

Once I had walked downstairs I noticed the footprints in the snow leading to my door and remembered I had left my mobile and headphones at work that night. 