I hate late nights. There's nothing to do but lie in bed and stare at the clock. Closing your eyes doesn't help, your brain refuses to let you sleep. Those hateful red numbers tick by one at a time and remind you that no matter how tired you are, you won't be sleeping tonight. Eventually, light is streaming in your window and you barely even noticed the change. Is it possible that you laid there for three hours without sleeping? It must be, the clock says that it's so. Why didn't you sleep? Those thoughts, the ones that quicken your heart and clench your fists keep coming back, swirling around inside your skull, tripping off every nerve until you finally resign to the insomnia and go get a cup of coffee. You'll need it. It's the third day in a row you've gotten two hours or less of sleep and your eyes feel like peeled grapes. It's difficult to concentrate at work because of the headache that seems to cut your brain in half. Finally you get home and think to yourself "if only I could sleep". You lay in bed and mercifully, your mind starts to drift and your eyes start to droop. Then she calls and you're reminded off all that was and will never be again. "It's ok" you think "Four days without sleep probably won't hurt me."
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I'm doing pretty well. How are things with you?
Cause nights tick, by like a long week except when you stop by.
And I know that tryin gets nothing done and I see you're about dry.
Cause nothing gets you high, you're poor the day you die,
and alcohol it only makes you tired.
But seein you feels good, and its always understood.
That anything much sweeter would make me die."
--My Morning Jacket
i don't envy you in the least, man. i was right where you're at not all that long ago, "reminded of all that was and will never be again."
i had to close all contact, for my own sake.