We are told that if you get a sufficient amount of sleep, you won’t feel sleep-deprived. They tend to focus on the quantity of sleep and seem to overlook the quality.
There have been days in which I got very little sleep, yet felt so energized and refreshed. And others, where I had much more sleep than needed, yet was too tired to complete the simplest of tasks.
The former are the days when I have a reason to wake up … to live. Sleep seems like a waste of time. A means to recharge so quickly to try and get back to life as soon as possible.
The latter … they’re the worst. They are the ones full of pain and disappointment. Life is pointless and is merely about striving to survive. Sleep becomes but an escape, and waking up a daily rude awakening. Dreams are usually unpleasant, and sleep is frequently interrupted in disturb. Each breath becomes a very difficult ordeal, and making it through each second is an unsatisfying accomplishment. Eating is unimaginably difficult, and nothing is enjoyable anymore. These are my lonely days that mark most of my life. Every time I manage to escape from them, they seem to hunt me down and get hold of me again, with a grip stronger than ever.
Today is one of the bad days, and I’m wondering, as usual, if I can know whether my whole life will be like this? Cause if it certainly will be, I might as well take one big sleep forever and save myself and others all the suffering.