sleep depravation

I don’t sleep well. Never have. Mind turns faster when it should be slowing down. Thoughts multiply when consciousness should be subtracted. Pillow a brick rather than a pad.

It’s been this way for decades. Sleep comes when I can’t physically get enough rest to make it worth my while. Wake up with an upset stomach and two briquettes of Coleman charcoal for eyes. Repeat.

I don’t have much of an explanation. Started when I was eleven for no reason that I can recall (though it may have been my grandfather’s death that started it). There are times when it happens less, others more, neither predictable. No trigger without a plural. No rhyme to find in a reason. Stopped trying to figure it out awhile ago. Figure it’s just the thorn in my psychic flesh.

Or something along those lines.

Heard a song recently that comes pretty close to capturing what it’s like. Maybe Jon Foreman gets it. Maybe I’m not losing sleep but sleeping on loss.

Remember that kid with the quivering lip
Whose heart was on his sleeve like a first aid kit
Where are you now? Where are you now?

Remember that kid, didn't know when to quit
I still lose my breath when I think about it
Oh, where'd you go? (Oh where'd you go?)

Oh oh/I feel like I'm dreaming
Oh oh/Staring up at the ceiling
Oh oh/It's four in the morning
I can't sleep and it feels like a warning

Oh oh/You wouldn't believe me
If I could say it just the way that I'm feeling
Oh oh/The words that I wanted to say
I feel them slipping away

I know this isn't what you wanted
Past words in the present are haunting us now
And on and on and on and on
My heartbeat could tell you it's urgent
I try to shout but the words don't come out
I feel I'm slipping away

“Slipping Away” Jon and Tim Foreman

I can’t tell yet what I’m supposed to do with this perspective. But I’m likely to have time to think about this when I should be sleeping.

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existential crisis, no waiting