Woes of the Perpetually Nocturnal

I hate sleeping. Or at least I hate that I need sleep. When I was younger, it was the saddest thing, being tucked into bed and knowing that the day’s adventures (or lack thereof) were ending. My bedtime was like a looming deadline, hanging over my head and filling me with anxiety about missing out on the magical things that happen late at night after little children go to sleep. Like one time, my mom let me stay up and watch Dogma with her. I was barely 7, but I still remember parts of the movie vividly: angels and explosions and profuse amounts of profanities. But that’s what I mean. If I hadn’t been awake that night, I may never have been able to watch that movie, and I count that among one of my more valuable experiences because I’m pretty sure it planted the seed that blossomed into my admiration (…obsession) for Matt Damon.

My attitude is pretty similar today, except I actually feel tiredness now. But no matter how much I need or want sleep, if I feel like my day hasn’t been satisfying-it’s been boring or disappointing or stressful-then I’ll stay up in the hopes that something will come about to round it out nicely. Even if all I’m doing is watching reruns of British T.V. shows on Netflix, I won’t sleep until I feel like I’ve gotten something out of the day.

And then, I hate napping for the same reasons that I hated going to sleep when I was younger. I don’t want to miss out on anything. While I intellectually understand that sleep gives me energy and functionality, the 7-year-old in me doesn’t think that sleep gives me anything; it only takes away more time that I can be living life. Time already goes by so fast, and I hate to think that so much of it flies away with my dreams at night.

And dreams are just a small consolation, because I only have vivid ones in the last hour before I wake up anyway, and my dreams are not the magical ones that create a place I want to revisit. They’re weird as hell. Like one time I dreamt that a giant storm came and wiped out everything, but then it turned out it was only people in China watching a Youtube video about a storm, and when they paused it the storm stopped. Seriously, what?

My subconscious does a bad job of making sleep attractive.

Still, at the end of the day, there I lay on the couch or on the floor, feeling the need to go to bed and hating myself for it. The only time I ever really want to sleep is in the morning when I’m supposed to wake up. Because at that point I’ve already succumbed to the temptress that is slumber, so why leave her clutches now? It’s so warm, and as soon as I leave her, I’ll begin the whole cycle of avoiding her again. Ugh. It sounds like a cheap love story.

But I guess I’ll talk more about this later, because I am honestly falling asleep right now.