Ivan Musoke

Where sleep and I disagree

It’s 11pm. The apostrophe key on my laptop is sentient and figured there’s no real reason it should exert itself on a public holiday.

I’m all for breaks, but I don’t really care for using the full form of a word when I can bridge the gap with a bloody punctuation mark.
Understandably, I’m a tad miffed that I have to choose whether I will go with additional text or simply write with careless abandon. . .reckless abandon….wreckless?
It’s 11:02 and I can not be arsed to run a search over at Google to confirm.
The real reason I am doing this is to lure sleep to me. It used to be such that I would lie in bed for a bit and then fire up my ebuddy app and fall asleep to the observations someone on the other side of the conversation was making. This was long before whatsapp, so there were no pictures being shared, no videos to feel embarassed about viewing again and again and no pictures to try and share with other people under the guise of being the first to chance upon it and share it.
Also, I suspect people have gotten more interesting lately.
Going to bed now will see me perform a ritual that has gotten all too familiar. Crawl under the covers, engage in some non-verbal dialogue with my pillows and finally, having persuaded them that it really is my turn to sleep seek out ”the spot”. What I find particularly frustrating is that sleep has no problem creeping up behind me at work and bludgeoning me with its warm embrace and yet, at 11:07, there will be so much tossing and turning in an attempt to prove that I am worthy of some consideration.
I say ‘some’ because my relationship with sleep is one for the telenovellas- it does not last as long as I would like and at about 3am I will wake with a start and realise that sleep just had her way with me and left me all by myself. Used and abused.
Now, I do not want to come off as the whiny jilted partner, but the fact is, I am hurting. I know sleep is seeing other people behind my back and that just pisses me off. I do not enjoy staying up in to the early hours of the morning, waiting and hoping only to be taken without so much as a heads up. What sucks even more is the knowledge that at 4am or 5am or whenever sleep sneaks back under the covers, I am not being given her best.
It’s obvious that someone else enjoyed my sleep when the clouds decided to shed some weight. It is obvious that while the preacher kept shouting out for donations for a roof at 3:35am, someone, somewhere was having a great time with my slumber. Hell, I guess if I went to the pastor’s shed I’d find a couple of people lost in her embrace.
11:21pm and I am wide awake. No yawns stifled, no shit being given. It’s me against the world, but screw it, I won’t wait for sleep. Not tonight. I’m going to log in to a random chatroom and troll the bastards in there until one of them hits me up privately and purrs,
“Hello, I’m sleep. Is it me you’re looking for?”

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