It is 4.30 in the morning and I cannot sleep. I have been trying since 2 o’clock but in vain, and I finally gave up. I have not had a really good night’s sleep for about a week now and the more I want to sleep the more it eludes me. I went to bed at 20.30 last night, hoping to be able to catch up on some sleep before beginning what promises to be a busy week at work, but 5 hours was all that was granted me. I guess I should be grateful for those hours at least.

I hate insomnia. When I cannot sleep the night becomes a torture and my bed a prison. I lie awake listening to the sounds of my boyfriend and dog sleeping next to me. My boyfriend’s loud breathing creates in me the strange compulsion to synchronize my breath with his, until I am out of breath from breathing against my natural rhythm. My thoughts spin in my head, chasing each other and creating random incoherent chains. My mind is full of fractured thoughts; shards that feel sharp and uncomfortable as they tumble around; and i long for sleep and the oblivion it brings. The longer I lie in my bed the more I wish to flee its confines but I know I have to sleep and willingly imprison myself under the covers until it is simply unbearable. As the intricate patterns of birdsong wake up the day, I know it is too late and that I will have to face another long and exhausting day.