I fight sleep each night. Something in me says there’s still some life to live and it’s not going to happen when I’m sleeping. My brain keeps going while my eyes begin to squint. I want to do that one more thing or figure out my life’s plan or whatever.
Each morning I hate myself for fighting the sleep. All I feel like fighting is my alarm… as well as all of society for making me wake up before I’m was ready. I vow to go to bed earlier that night and slap my hands a few times before swinging my feet out of bed.
Is there a point in this all? Maybe. It just makes me wonder what that late night hour is worth and why my brain fights for it like I’ll never get it back. Perhaps the question could be raised — what if I never wake up? But if that’s really the case, then what happened in that hour, those last few waking moments, that mattered? Does it matter? Should it?