There’s a great Stephen King book called Insomnia. It tells of an elderly man who just can’t sleep, and his insomnia gets worse and worse, until he starts seeing all kinds of strange things around him.

I’m a night person.  Always have been. But lately, my sleeping hours have become more and more outrageous. It’s not uncommon for me to go to sleep at 3 am, or even later than that. As a result, I get up late too. The cat is to blame in part, no doubt, because she wakes me up at six so I can let her out. But I can’t help the fact that sometimes I feel like Ralph Roberts from Insomnia, although to be quite frank, with me it’s not exactly insomnia. It’s more like un-tiredness (is that a word?)

Some months ago I used to suffer from real Insomnia. I used to go to bed at around 1 AM and fall asleep at about 3, and the last few months… hell, the last year or so, has been tough. You see, I have a problem. I think too much. I just can’t help it. I’m a fucking mega-thinker. So I used to lie in bed and think, and think, and think… And I tell you, thinking can be tiring and exhusting. But not exhusting enough to lull you to sleep, as it seemed.

So I guess I got tired of lying in bed and thinking. Instead of going to bed at 1 and fall asleep at 3, I go to bed at 3 and that’s that. I’ve become a certifiable night owl. Batman has nothing on me.

I like the night. It’s peaceful. No cars honking, no busses making noise, no people yelling (usually). It’s a great time for reading, writing, watching horror films. The best Radio shows air at night, and the best music too.

Oh, but look at the time. Good night!


1 comment so far

  1. Tamar on

    I guess that runs in the family (thinking to much and not being able to sleep). You truely are your mother’s son.

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