I was 12 when I invited you into my life. At first, it started with a late night here, a late night there; trying to catch up or get ahead. Those honors classes took a toll on me.
I was in sixth-grade and taking classes seventh and eighth graders took. I asked for your help, to keep me awake just one more hour so I could understand the math problem or read another chapter of my book because it felt good when I knew the answers in class.
At age 13, I was taking high school classes, learning my third language, and family became a responsibility. I only saw two places school and home. You became my best friend in the sea of people who couldn’t see past my brains and smiles.
I turned 14; my body was tired, but my mind hungered for more. Online research in biology because I thought I wanted to be a doctor. Reading till two in the morning because that was my only time to escape. Then right before my 15th birthday, we had a fight. My mind had grown weary and my soul was close to dying from exhaustion.
I knew I was on my own when it came to our relationship problems when my mother had just gotten home from work around one in the morning after working the second shift.
“Oh, Lez, you’re still awake?”
“Yeah, mom. I’ve been reading some medicine stuff, and I think I have insomnia.”
Her answer still makes me laugh; she didn’t how serious it was: “Lesley, all you have to do is sleep.”
I looked at her in shock, and I heard you laugh. In my mind, I thought, “If only it was that easy.”
I told her, trying to contain my anger at her for not understanding, “Okay, I will. Goodnight.”
It was the last time I mentioned you to anyone.
At fifteen, our relationship became abusive. You demanded more and more time; you threw parties in my mind even though I didn’t like some of your party guests. You and your friends partied all night, and I would have to clean up the mess early in the morning before anyone ever woke up.
High school was a nightmare, at least it would have been had you allowed me the pleasure of sleep. Still you kept your promise. I allowed you in my life, and you allowed me the ability to stay up and learn. My grades never suffered. Sure I was slowly dying from exhaustion, most days it felt like I had run a marathon, but my grades never fell lower than a B-.
At one point, I thought I had lost my mind, but it turned out I was just sick. I felt weird when I slept for longer than three or four hours. When I moved my senior year, you were the only friend that came with me. You loved me that much.
In college, I got protective of you. I would hear people say how they had only slept 4 hours the night before. I would smirk and laugh. “Foolish people, they don’t know insomnia like I do. He is my live long lover,” I would think.
I am a senior in college now; I am 21, and I still wear your designer bags under eyes. Only this time I no longer hiding them, in fact, I am asking for someone to rob them. I know will always have them; I will always have you to keep me company on those long nights when you become extra needy.
It’s hard to explain. I love you; you have kept the nightmares, both living and nonliving at bay, but oh how I hate you. I hate the parties that you randomly have; I hate how you don’t allow me to sleep when sleep is my only way to dream of an ideal world. You have caused and sometimes cause so much pain. You are a secret poison, and yet, a secret weapon.
Our relationship is classic abuse. It’s textbook and in a way comical. You allow your friends to mock me, and I take it because I enjoy my high-grade point average. You allow your friends to bully me, and I take it because I have helped many of my close friends escape their demons, escape your friends, escape you. You allow your friends to abuse me, and I take it because I can now understand those who you have tortured as well.
Dear Insomnia,
It’s two in the morning, and now I lay me down to sleep. The room will be pitch black and then your friends will come as well. I don’t mind them anymore, in fact, I have become a great hostess, wouldn’t you say? The clock will strike three and tears will start to pour; your friends are jerks. The fourth hour will arrive, and I will close my eyes for a second only to open them two or three hours later. I will sit up in shock, and I will see that night has become day, and isn’t that beautiful?
Dear Insomnia,
It’s two in the morning, and now I lay me down to sleep. I know the routine, for years it has been the same, but for tonight, watch me fight.
Dear Insomnia and friends,
It’s two in the morning, and now I lay me down to sleep. Bring it!
