Sleep that is.
One of the things that few people know about me is that I suffer from chronic insomnia. I have seen more 4AMs than is decent for any man to see. There is something incredibly soul-destroying about 4AM. An hour to early too feel comfortable to be awake, but late enough that every second you lie awake brings you closer to the point at which going back to sleep is no longer an option.
As I said, quite soul-destroying.
Insomnia does funny things to your head. You start to think about sleep all the time as you lie awake, and it goes from being a state of rest, to being a fickle woman who has teased you, and now won’t give you any more. You start to feel a love/hate relationship with it. You long for her, and at the same time hate her for her callous disregarrd for your feelings.
I wrote a poem about this, which I published over at fictionpress. I wanted to call it “I can’t get none” but I decided that the poem was already too unclear about who I was talking too. I wanted to create the feeling I have described above, of being abandoned by someone, but still make it clear that I am talking about sleep, and not an actual woman.
I think I have failed miserably, and am trying to remedy the situation.
When I finished the piece, I looked at my clock.
4AM of course.