What do you do when you can’t sleep?
Toss and turn? What about sheep—how many can you count before you start counting your breaths? One. Two. Eight. Lost count.
Do you reach out for your book because it works when you go to sleep in the evening?
And what else works? Chamomile tea. But you have to get up and your bare feet will feel the chill of the kitchen floor. How about the good old milk and honey? Your gran used to make that for you when your eyes wouldn’t close.
Am I the only one awake?
Have you checked the time?
2:13.
2:16.
2:21.
Is the time mocking you?
Have you checked Instagram?
3:07.
You could roll a joint—there’s still some left from last night. The other side of the pillow is so cold. That’s why you can’t sleep. You can hear the distant hum of the city. The random car driving past flashing its headlights through your bedroom window for a split second. That single clicking noise you just heard coming from downstairs. Why does sleep hate you tonight? Taking magnesium before sleep is yet another social-media-influencer-type-of-a-bullshit. The conversation with dad is giving you a queasy stomach. Your chest is closing in as you vividly remember the awkward encounter at the gym. Was it awkward? She smiled, you made a noise. Did you? You did. Was it weird? Did she do anything? What did your dad say again? Don’t want to replay the conversation? Quick, think of something else. But what? Alright, it’s time to sleep!
If I fall asleep now, I’ll get exactly three hours and sixteen minutes. No…fifteen.
Go on, get out of bed. Get the fresh bedding out. That’s why you can’t sleep—you haven’t changed your bed in a month. Disgusting. In fact, take a shower. A hot one, to calm down, to chill. Alright, change the bed…take a shower…and sleep? Can you though because you can feel the absolute emptiness in your stomach. It feels hollow. And it sounds it, too. It’s late but you know you can’t fall asleep with an empty stomach! Alright, change the bed…take a shower…have a snack…and sleep! Fresh air might do you good, don’t you think? Just 10 minutes. It won’t make much of a difference, plus it’s a guarantee you’ll fall asleep! Just round the block, slowly. Where’s the jacket? This is so much effort but alright, change the bed…take a shower…have a snack…take a walk and then sleep! Wait—why don’t you have a snack on the walk? Clever! You’re not just a pretty face!
Tomorrow’s almost here! Am I excited about it, or dreading it?
Can you even tell?
You hit the pillow, dressed in fresh linen, cheeks and the backs of your hands still kinda cold from outside. The hair at the back of your head a little wet because you rushed the shower. You turn over to lie on your back because that feels comfy. It’s like a new opportunity to close your eyes and blissfully drift away. A missed one though. Your eyes have no desire to stay closed, you’re wide awake. You have been for hours. You’re the creature of the dark that will have to pretend to thrive when the sun comes up. There’s a sense of resignation. You don’t fight it anymore, you’ve given in. You’re lying motionless on your back, staring at the ceiling. You stopped trying. Everything goes still and silent, you close your eyes for just a second.
The alarm goes off, it’s 7am.
Maybe insomnia has secrets for you. Will you listen?
Quiet Paragraphs 