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Something is Better Than Nothing
Feb. 24th, 2014 12:30 amIt is in the small hours when the walls close in and the wires in the brain ignite. The perpetual chatter that remained dormant during the day suddenly begins to crawl and scratch beneath the skull and the idea of sleep can only seem like a dream in itself.
The head hits the pillow and the eyes are squeezed shut but the volume of the ticking clock and the babbling of the brain begin to wage a war. It is 2 a.m. Forehead beaded with sweat, heart rages in the chest, it is too warm, it is too cold, the blanket bears heavy, the skin feels furious and screams are forcibly swallowed.
The days events are picked apart and probed in minute and defined detail. Conversations are replayed and the things you wished you had said are rehearsed. But of course, this only serves to make the heart pound faster and the bed grow more uncomfortable.
It is 3 a.m. legs twitch, the body switches position, it is too hot, it is too cold, blood surges through arteries and through veins, eyes are clamped shut, floodgates of thoughts wreak havoc as they snap across synapses. Memories, ideas, guilt, agendas, birthdays, schedules, things to remember, things to forget, important events, things to do before you die, things not to do before you die.
It is 4 a.m. and you admit defeat. It is too late to have anything that will resemble a 'good night's sleep'. The day starts in three hours and you have only just begun scrutinising the tragedies of your first year in high school in the attempt to pin-point exactly where it all went wrong. There is ringing in your ears from the ticking and the tocking of the clock and you have swore to yourself you will smash it to pieces with a hammer in the morning. If only you could... just... get... to... sleep...
It is 5 a.m. there is birdsong. That is the final call. The siren. The denouement. Daylight begins to flicker through the curtains and the exhaustion hangs heavy in your face and bones. You ask yourself 'what was the point?' and you continue the argument while the chirps breed from branch to branch.
It is 6 a.m. Sleep! Victory! It happened! Finally, the eyeballs have rolled back, the heart is now a gentle thud, the muscles un-wring... 7 a.m. The shrill shriek of the alarm rips you away from that peace. You shrug, 'I slept' you tell yourself.
Something is better than nothing.
The head hits the pillow and the eyes are squeezed shut but the volume of the ticking clock and the babbling of the brain begin to wage a war. It is 2 a.m. Forehead beaded with sweat, heart rages in the chest, it is too warm, it is too cold, the blanket bears heavy, the skin feels furious and screams are forcibly swallowed.
The days events are picked apart and probed in minute and defined detail. Conversations are replayed and the things you wished you had said are rehearsed. But of course, this only serves to make the heart pound faster and the bed grow more uncomfortable.
It is 3 a.m. legs twitch, the body switches position, it is too hot, it is too cold, blood surges through arteries and through veins, eyes are clamped shut, floodgates of thoughts wreak havoc as they snap across synapses. Memories, ideas, guilt, agendas, birthdays, schedules, things to remember, things to forget, important events, things to do before you die, things not to do before you die.
It is 4 a.m. and you admit defeat. It is too late to have anything that will resemble a 'good night's sleep'. The day starts in three hours and you have only just begun scrutinising the tragedies of your first year in high school in the attempt to pin-point exactly where it all went wrong. There is ringing in your ears from the ticking and the tocking of the clock and you have swore to yourself you will smash it to pieces with a hammer in the morning. If only you could... just... get... to... sleep...
It is 5 a.m. there is birdsong. That is the final call. The siren. The denouement. Daylight begins to flicker through the curtains and the exhaustion hangs heavy in your face and bones. You ask yourself 'what was the point?' and you continue the argument while the chirps breed from branch to branch.
It is 6 a.m. Sleep! Victory! It happened! Finally, the eyeballs have rolled back, the heart is now a gentle thud, the muscles un-wring... 7 a.m. The shrill shriek of the alarm rips you away from that peace. You shrug, 'I slept' you tell yourself.
Something is better than nothing.
