I'm Wide Awake

iCant.1

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I fiddle my thumbs rubbing them against the knuckles of forefingers, my hands raising and dropping above my stomach as they follow in sync with my breathing.  I keep my lips sealed to avoid another sighing marathon, were I continued to brood over how my unhealthy sleeping cycle is affecting my life. Weighing over how tired I was of being tired.

Maintaining my position as if my body was cold and lacked of life, I twist my neck to the left and raise my chin up to check the time. My crusty eyes squint as I apply heavy pressure around my neck the muscle protesting in the process.

My vision fails me when all I see is a blurred darkness, doing absolutely no justice for me. It takes a while before my line of sight adjusts to the darkness and clears enough to read the digits of my alarm clock, and 3:40am glares back at me in dark red. I flick my head back hard against my pillow stifling a groan.

This is just fantastic.

I swear I could feel my own alarm clock mocking me for being the only person awake at this ungodly hour on a Monday.

I yearn for the feeling of drifting off to oblivion. Just once.

On the bright side, I got my homework done that I'd normally leave until right the very last minute to do, my bag packed, lunch made and ready for school. I roll my lip under my front teeth, puncturing it bored and frustrated all at the same time. My stare contest with the ceiling carries on.  I think I'm winning. Look at me, I've gone to the point of insanity where I mentally challenge matter around me. I need a shut eye.

Operation Go To-Sleep Check-list.

1. Do everything you possibly can so that you're tired and will eventually pass out. ×

2. Religiously check the clock. ×

3. Staring contest with the ceiling even though you can't see in the dark ×

4. Count  sheep.- Oh god.

I've begun to debate whether I still think straight or I have dried up all my braincells due to all those sleepless nights.  

I  flutter my eyes closed and wiggle around in the bed sheets trying to get myself cocooned into my comforters to assure that I trap all the possible areas heat could escape from, with my feet. Lastly I plaster a small fake, dreamy smile on my face adding to the effect.

My hopes are raised high for this to work.

"Okay, this is going to be simple, its just counting sheep," I mutter under my breath.

I clear my throat and begin the counting. One sheep, two sheep, three sheep...
By the time I got to the tenth sheep I had a mental vivid image of a blood bath filled with slaughtered sheep. This flickers like a light switch to snap my eyes open and save the little sanity I have left.

These little bedtime stories about how sheep are sleep friendly are turning out to be completely bogus. I want the eight dollars my mom paid when I was seven back.

I check the clock once again for good measure. 6.30 am. I get over-excited and find myself tumbling down, bunched and trapped in my sheets to the hard ground. Oompf. After realising what had happened, I manage to lift myself up -dazed and pad my feet against the carpet whilst grabbing the gown near me and the little dignity that's left. 

 I'm not risking my brother showering before me. Waking up to a clogged drain, wet floors, stained shower floor, and blasted toilet seats is not a beautiful sight. He is an animal. A sheep possibly...