"It's 3 a.m., I must be lonely..."

"I haven't slept in a year."
~ Trevor (Christian Bale, The Machinist)

How do people go to sleep? I'm afraid I've lost the knack. I might try busting myself smartly over the temple with the night-light. I might repeat to myself, slowly and soothingly, a list of quotations beautiful from minds profound; if I can remember any of the damn things.

~Dorothy Parker

I almost went mad last night. In a Whitney Houston "crack is wack" kind of way. The variety of shaky, unstable crazy that's great for the memoir but dangerous to the brain.

It was 11:15. And like any tired young woman with work in the morning, I went to bed. But I am not "any tired young woman." I did not sleep. At all.

There was no noise to keep me awake. No light. Maybe a little heat. No real stress. No pain. No giddy little butterflies that would keep me from nodding off. Nope. Just hours of blank nothingness.

I've never been so aware of my shoulders. For hours, I couldn't get comfortable, as if I had grown broader and didn't know where to place my head, neck and shoulders in relation to each other. I didn't just toss and turn; I twisted. At one point, I was lying perpendicular across my mattress, which is quite the feat when you sleep in a single bed. I folded my pillow in half. Then I went without one.

There is nothing more frustrating than sleepless exhaustion. Of course, the moment you start stressing about your lack of sleep, the more incapable of sleeping you become.

So I lay there. Waiting. Pretending to sleep. Hoping I could trick my body into actual slumber. By 3 a.m., I was ready to cry. Except that I was too tired to bother. I was overheated, uncomfortable and angry. I contemplated taking a "sleep day," but knew that a project was half-done and couldn't subject coworkers to cleaning up a half-finished mess.

I finally fell asleep. My alarm went off two hours later.

I. Am. Tired. My throat has ached all day. My head pounds. My insomnia was either caused by approaching illness, or it triggered my new suffering.

I should go to bed. But I won't. Not yet. I won't crawl beneath those blankets until I'm completely crash-ready. Delayed gratification, if you will. Sleep will be that much more sweeter when I don't have to think about sleeping. Unless I still don't sleep.

I could always star in the sequel to The Machinist, I suppose.



"It's 3 a.m., I must be lonely...."
The most gorgeous version ever. (Starts at 0:51.)
Although this version is also pretty great.



Can you believe that song was released TWELVE years ago? I feel so old. And tired.