Prompt: In the form of a journal entry, write about being up late at night because you’re having trouble sleeping.
Night thirty five, thirty six? Gosh I dont even know. I’ve basically lost track of time. This is now the norm. My new normal. It’s eerily quiet. So quiet I feel like I’m part of a zombie apocalypse. The darkness has enveloped me. Same shit, different night. I spend a couple of minutes staring st the ceiling then I’m up suddenly. Then I spends couple more restless minutes pacing, mind racing, with the problems I’m facing, showcasing the fact I can’t sleep. Now I fancy myself a lyricalist… that even a word? Anyways let me pull up a chair. Is there a pen spare. I’m writing this like I havent been sat at my desk, with he lamp on now, figuring out how and when I became a night Owl who dislikes sleep. The thing is I like sleep…. I’d rather be asleep than awake sometimes. But when it comes down to it, I never seem to journey to dreamland. So now I’m sat here writing away, rhythmic scratch of the pen keeping me company, not knowing when the tiredness will descend. If it will ever descend. I guess writing this down doesn’t help matter because I’m engaging more of my brain… thinking about the words, whole I rant about nothing in particular part from my current predicament. Now my brain is active I’m getting further and further away from sleep. I can hear the clanging of the clock in the town centre… five times it’s rang out. Ive been sat here for half an hour. I might as well give in. Another night turning to day where sleep has evaded me. I am not holding out hope for day thirty seven.
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Peace & Love ✌❤