I wake up at approximately three AM every morning and have been for the past week through no volition of my own. I, a girl who could sleep through the nuclear apocalypse and wake up oblivious to the fact that it was just me and the cockroaches for a radius of three hundred miles, have been doing this despite having exhausting days, going to bed late, and generally doing everything that should allow me to conk out for at least six to seven hours.
I wake up, and from the second I'm conscious of my consciousness, I know: I did it again. Damn you, body-you give me a bleeding uterus and now you give me some internal clock that compels me to wake up at an utterly ungodly hour. Ungodly?
Fuck that whole "evil never sleeps" thing, Satan doesn't even wake up this early. (As I'm sure you can tell, I'm someone who values their sleep like some women value their engagement rings or pedigree puppies. Some men, too, for that matter. The puppies, not the engagement rings.)
My routine is this: I switch my radio back on, get up, meditate, try to sleep. That attempt invariably fails. So, rinse and repeat. Attempt two doesn't work either. I am wide awake. I am Night Owl. I am going to kill that fucking alarm clock. So, stop, rewind, repeat. And the weirdest thoughts start coursing in my mind.
"Maybe it's the dogs. Maybe they get let out right about now and their loudness gets transferred up through the ceiling to me via their almost nonexistant brainwaves. Jesus, what the hell was that? Oh, that was a car. I need to stop watching horror movies. You know, if this was a horror movie, the villain would be standing right behind me with a vaguely BDSM-ish costume and a chainsaw. Nope, nothing.... do I exist? Hell, does anything outside me exist? I should take philosophy. I'll go bald, live in Central Park, and be Plato. Or a hobo. I wonder if Plato was an LSD-toking hobo. Did they have drugs in Greece or Rome or whatever? Why am I even up? Where's my notebook? Leatherface fucking took my notebook! Wait, Leatherface doesn't exist. Woman, you are hereby banned from anything rated R after six o'clock... judges. Where'd the whole white wig thing come from anyway? God, I need to get some sleep. What smells like candle smoke? Did I leave something burning downstairs? Wait, no, that's just the smell from the unlit ones over there. Thank you for the heart attack, Yankee Candle Brigade. Why can I always smell candles and not perfume? Did I get that essay done? Did I finish that chapter? Nope, there's my pen impaling the comforter, I must've fallen asleep writing it. Well, I tried anyway. I wonder if you can replace blood with coffee. What flavor would mine be? Chai? French vanilla? Straight-up java? I dunno, I'm a bigger soda drinker anyw-damn it. Damn it, damn it, damn it. It's four now. I. Need. To. Sleep."
So I fall asleep somewhere around five and am forced to wake up by the tyranny of the alarm clock world to which I am unwilling drudge for now somewhere around six.
Note to self: buy some sleeping pills, or at least stop drinking caffeine.