Sleepless Nights

When I was about 8 years old my mom asked me what my favorite time of the day was. Daytime or nighttime? Without much hesitation, I answered “Nighttime”. I remember saying nighttime because to me the night was when life was simpler. Looking back, my choice seems a little weird to me. Not because it isn’t true anymore. In fact, it’s quite the contrary. The night is still my favorite time of the day. The only difference - I now have reasons to hate it as well.

Sleep is a big part of the night, isn’t it? I watch my dad go to sleep every night right on time. I won’t lie, I envy it. However, I’m glad at least one of us gets decent sleep. It’s not like I haven’t tried. I have, more than once that too. However, every time I close my eyes to turn blind to the world in front of me another world opens up within, and unfortunately, that world doesn’t let me sleep. A world where time and space don’t really matter as characters from my past and present unite to haunt me.

I have often wondered, “Is the speed of thought almost as much as the speed of light?” As I lay in bed trying to sleep every night, my mind races at a pace that is nearly impossible to keep track of. From reminiscing petty embarrassments to regretting major traumas, why do I need to relive these moments of dread just when I’m trying to give up on the day? It’s almost as if after the physical battle I now have to fight a mental battle every day.

I see faces, hear voices, feel touches, and smell fragrances that were once familiar to me. I try hard to resist them, but the silence and darkness of the night make it a lot easier for my mind to torture me. I keep wondering, “What if I didn’t lose it all? What if I held onto all of it? Would my nights still be as frightening?” Alas, there’s no way to find out.

I watch the clock ticking. Midnight, 1 AM, 2 AM, 3 AM, 4 AM… time doesn’t stop and neither does my mind. Sometimes I slap myself on the head in an attempt to somehow stop these relentless chains of thoughts created by the weakest and saddest moments of my life. Tossing and turning, hoping that my eyelids get heavy enough for me to be unable to open them. Strangely, even that is challenging as in the solitude of the night it’s only the nightmares of traumas past that accompany me.

Thus, for hours at stretch, I blankly stare at the phone screen, exhausting my mind further and further hoping all my energy gets drained. The lack of energy would mean that I can finally fall asleep. Sadly, it rarely works. I’ll often find myself blankly staring at the dim light of my phone screen while my mind recreates the visuals I try so desperately to forget.

I remember loving the night as a child because it gave me the chance to be alone after long days at school. While everybody was asleep I was busy in my own imaginary world. A near-perfect world. Nevertheless, as they say, “Be careful of what you wish for.” I never realized when exactly my thoughts decided to change direction from a hypothetical personal utopia to a collection of agonizing memories of the past. I used to crave the night. Now, I dread it. Mind you, I still wait for the night to come as that’s the only time when I’m alone with… me. The only time when I can talk to only… me.

You must be wondering, “How hypocritical is this guy? He just can’t seem to make up his mind.” Well, I guess, you now know the mess that lies between my ears.