I sit in my room alone shoveling lukewarm Spagettios into my mouth as greedily as a malnourished child. The meal is bland, but allows me precious time to reflect on the day…a time to be myself. It’s 1:10 in the morning/night depending on your perspective. I just got home from work and am expected back in seven hours. A desperate plea races through my mind, dear God how did it come to this? I arrived at the office this morning around 9:00 AM. For those keeping score, that’s 15.75 hours. 15.75 hours! Although some people thrive in such a stress filled environment, I find it extremely taxing. Proper sleep is necessary for a job well done, but apparently this mantra is not shared in this world. Worst of all, I’m coming off of only two hours sleep the night before. Tonight won’t be much better. A dozen needles accompany every step and, although I don’t recall stepping in any puddles, my right sock is wet and spongy. I wouldn’t wish this lifestyle on anyone, especially myself, but here I am, neck deep in the quicksand once again. Survival is key. Only a few days and it is all over. But then what?
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At last someone who knows the inside of an insomniac’s life. For me it’s pretty much like that a great deal of the time. I don’t think it’s the world exactly, but much more this country, which shoulders the burden of a work ethic so that the vast majority of the planet doesn’t have to. I read somewhere or other (don’t quote me on this) that the only nations that have a harder-working population than ours are Finland and South Korea.
All you can do is try to weather it, I’ve found. That doesn’t make it any better, but it at least gives hope that it will, sooner or later, come to something of a lull.