When You Can't Sleep

    You can do a multitude of things to obtain a ticket to dreamland. You can count sheep until you drift off into a peaceful slumber. You can drink chamomile tea, or practice your times tables. You can even contemplate your existence due to the crushing dread associated with  botched social interactions from five years ago. You lay there in your warm, safe bed wondering why and how you were stupid enough to respond with "you too" when the waitress said "enjoy your meal." You think about how awkward you were back in middle school with your rhinestone backpack, or how you said sorry too many times, and then apologized for saying it so much. You lie there in the dark, thinking about how meaningless and small your life really is. You try to comprehend how infinitesimal your actions truly are. The sheer weight of the size of the universe settles on your chest, suffocating you and pressing the very peace out of your body. You lay in the dark wondering how you might make any sort of difference with the eighty or so years you might have. Once you realize how little time you have, you begin to think about how little you've accomplished in comparison to your peers. A sense of hopelessness creeps in, as if the universe itself wants you to give up on your dreams, aspirations, and self.

    Like trying to salvage your dignity following the mistakes you've made; life itself seems pointless, and all you want to do is escape this downward spiral of thoughts and indescribable emotions. You attempt to remind yourself that you do matter. You have mass and take up space. You belong to a race of extremely destructive beings with just as little time as you do. You remind yourself that life is short, and it is pointless to agonize over the little things in it. This isn't how your brain works. Reminding yourself is pointless, just like life itself. At least the universe doesn't have a vendetta against you, as you are one of countless beings. Most of which are more important than yourself. You struggle to fight against the torrent of thoughts, spiraling. Each new thought overshadows the previous. Your train of thought has derailed, and is hurtling toward the abyss, the one thing you fear in life. The proverbial darkness seems to seep into your mind, one drip at a time. You suddenly hear a ping from your phone. In a desperate attempt to hold on to any dredges of sleepiness, you squint and peer at the now illuminated screen. It's your friends wanting to chat. You shove the weight of the universe off of your chest, and cling to the thought of spending your tiny, short life chasing satisfaction and joy with others just like you. You spend some time reconnecting with those you care for--the ones that matter to you--and sign off an hour later. Finally giving up your consciousness to the three hours you have left in the night.