If I have not fallen asleep by one a.m. there is no need to worry. Most nights I am up watching TV anyway. One a.m. is a decent time for me, there’s no need to stress; but before I know it, two a.m. rolls around. Now, this is still ok, but I know at this point my eyes and mind need to rest. I try to close my eyes and count sheep but the only things I end up counting are all the responsibilities that come when I wake. My mind races to jobs I need to finish that are not even my responsibility, such as what needs to be done at work tomorrow when I won’t even be there. I fade off into miscellaneous thought. Contemplating on why we as a human species are alive, and I feel like I need to solve that question before morning comes around.
Before I know it, the number four on my phone begins to stalk me. Each minute that grows closer is another step forward that four a.m. takes towards me. I lay in my bed, the back of my head resting on my pillow, body under one blanket because it’s too warm to be fully covered. My hands over my face, fingers trying to force my eyes shut; this isn’t working. Maybe my body is too warm to fall asleep, I get up to turn on the fan that sits on my windowsill. Well, shit. I’ve gotten myself down an even deeper hole. Now that I’ve gotten up and walked two feet to the window, my legs are fully awake. I want to take them out for miles and eventually, I will give in. Everyone tells me to do a small exercise if I’m tired. Yeah, fuck that thought.
How the hell is it already six a.m.? The streets are loud of cars, filled with tired people on their way to work, and I am outside of my house sitting on the front porch. I have not slept, not a single moment. At this point why even bother trying to sleep? The world is awake, so I might as well be too.
Is this mania or is this just insomnia? Even with no sleep, my mind is wild and alive, my hands need to be moving at the speed of sound. I am unstoppable. I can do anything. Nothing will hold me back. I don’t even need sleep at this point. I am Wonder Woman. No…no, I am my own woman. I am big, strong, and confident; I am powerful. I am power.
Later in the morning, I crash. All my walls of strength I have built have come tumbling down to my feet. What happened? Where did my power go? I never really had any power. Power, you see, is simply a word. I am weak, but weak isn’t just a word to me. No, weak is my middle name. I live and breathe each letter of the word. Depression has come back and I am weak. The cycle will begin again. I will be low for quite some time to the point it will feel ok. I will become content with this depression. The small time of tranquility will only last for so long and it will soon pass.
Days go by and my energy will begin to rise once again. This new burst of energy is unfamiliar to my body as I have been down for so long. My hands shake and I am unsteady, but I believe this is probably just anxiety. This hill my mind is climbing is wearing me down. My body won’t stop. Soon enough I have reached the peak, the high of all highs. No drug could ever feel as good as this one right now at the top of this mountain my mind has climbed. I have peaked and oh boy is it beautiful. I am everything I want to be. There is no such thing as being “weak.”
I crave for this kind of rush each time I wake. I enjoy the way it feels, but it hurts me. I talk too much and don’t listen enough, I make bad decisions, become reckless and careless of others. I become a person I don’t know and someone I don’t really want to be.