Champion Insomniac

I've forgotten how to sleep.  Unless my body is on the verge of total exhaustion, it refuses to stop. Like a whale in captivity, it refuses to eat.  I present the main dish of a queen Sealy Posturpedic Mira Loma II with the ten year, non-prorated warranty, and all the trimmings: dual goose down / memory foam pillows and jersey sheets.  Yet it scoffs.  I can't tempt myself.  It hasn't eaten in months but it won't eat.  Why won't it eat?

I can feel my heart racing as I lay in my bed. It beats like it's trying to escape from my chest. Only in bed am I alone with my brain. My brain and I are like an old married couple. The only way they peacefully coexist is by keeping them separated as much as possible. At night, they are forced into the same space.  No distractions. Just a brain and a boy.

Before long, I cave. I can't stand the bickering.  I reach for the computer that sleeps on the side of my bed where a woman should be. Tech blogs, Chicago weather updates, Facebook.  Repeat.  I stare until my eyes ache and my fingers stumble across the keyboard like a girl learning to walk in high heels.  My body begs for sleep but my brain won't budge an inch. Fast forward three hours.

My chest is heavy. The air is thick. Sleep is a stranger.  I want to go to her.