I scarcely experience sleepless nights. After the periodic natural loss of consciousness overtakes my body for a couple of hours, I sometimes find my eyes forced open from a bad dream during my rem cycle or the pain in my stomach that accompanies a feeling telling me something is not right. On these occasions, I usually awaken to find my 5’6” body curled into a tiny ball, taking up only two square feet of the queen-sized bed I spend nearly every night in. As restless and disturbing hours of the evening precede me, I suddenly remember everything I have yet to check off my to-do list and my mind races with the dreadful thought of how tired I am going to be the next morning. Stress consumes me, and the routine of my body’s circadian rhythm is thrown off for yet another day. I plead with my mind to sleep, but my request is denied.

 As my heart rate finally begins to level off and I start to watch the clock pass by, irrational thoughts are now beginning to plague my mind. I overanalyze the creation and vastness of the galaxies, petrifying depths of the ocean and the inner substances of the Earth. I question the latent content of my nightmare, trying to rationalize through all of the ways it could apply to my life. I know that psychologists theorize that eight in 10 dreams are marked by one negative emotion or event, so what was the one that troubled mine? I think about every humiliating interaction I have ever had or every mistake I have ever made, and wonder what I could have possibly been put on this earth to do in life. Still, sleep is the only thing that I want to fulfill me. 

After I have racked every inch of my brain for hours, I try just laying there, thoughtless. My eyes shut again and the typical procedure repeats itself. I change the positions of my arms and legs, flip my pillow over to the cold side and finally shove the plethora of blankets off my body. When none of this works, I drag myself to the bathroom to brush my teeth, hoping this will in some way trick my brain into insinuating my body to rest, but yet another hour ticks by and my old friend is nowhere to be found. My mind and body become a slave to sleep, craving it like a drug and longing for its simplistic regularity to return to me.

Although this temporary insomnia seems like a curse and often occurs on the worst of occasions, it is a process that reminds me I am only human. Just one out of 7.9 billion people on this planet, who right now happens to be exacerbated over a loss of rest. I ultimately realize this deprivation is out of my control. I am merely a pawn in the daunting chess match of sleep, or lack thereof. There is nothing I can do… and just like that, my eyes doze off and I awaken to another morning.