It’s 3 a.m., I must be lonely.

by hillarymay

I couldn’t sleep last night. I laid on top of my covers, staring at the wall. I kept checking the time on my phone every half hour or so, watching, ever so slowly as the time passed. It was excruciating. I re-positioned myself every few minutes: under the covers, above the covers, on my back, on my stomach, on my side. I sat up for a while, took a lap around the apartment, thought about journaling, listened to soothing music on my ipod. One thing after another. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t slip away and I was growing impatient.

And so the dialogue began.

Why wasn’t I tired? Did I get too much sleep the previous night? I’m usually ALWAYS tired. This is unusual. Maybe I’m stressed about something. What am I worried about right now? Why am I insecure about this? Why are these particular faces flashing through my mind? Maybe I should pray. But what should I pray for? Why is this particular conversation playing over and over like a tape in my head? I’m really into this music right now, it just seems to fit well with where I am at in life. I wish I knew how he was doing. I could drink a diet coke right now. What am I trying to prove? Why do I idolize these things? I could really do without this. And I could certainly do more of this.

I’ll spare you the rest, for it carried on like this until 6 a.m. I finally drifted off but woke again around 7. I sighed, burying my head in my pillow. I was exhausted. I hadn’t had a night like this since last semester, and boy am I glad I am not back there again. That was a torturous time. I climbed out of bed and went to my desk. I picked up a small bottle of medication prescribed to help me sleep. I only take it when necessary, but I think this was necessary. I set it beside my bed as a reminder. I can’t take another night like that. I can’t.

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