At 10 PM, I get into bed and try to sleep. But before I know it, it’s already midnight. At first, when I lay down at 10, I felt a slight anxiety—”Maybe I won’t be able to sleep again”—but it wasn’t overwhelming. However, the moment I see the clock strike midnight, a slow-burning sense of restlessness starts creeping up from deep inside my chest.
I try recalling a pleasant dream I once had, take deep breaths, and even attempt the so-called “military breathing technique,” inhaling for four seconds and exhaling for another four. But time just keeps slipping away. “Maybe I should have watched one of those deep sleep videos on YouTube,” I think. “If I’m going to be awake anyway, I might as well have read a book.” Before I realize it, my mind is flooded with thoughts—work, family, all the things that have been weighing on me.
My eyelids feel heavy, yet my brain continues to race, wide awake. I try to reset my thoughts, to maintain a state of complete mental blankness, but it’s harder than I imagined. Ideally, I would just drift off to sleep, but the more I try, the more thoughts creep back in.
Before I know it, I check the clock—it’s already 2 AM. I have to wake up at 6 AM, meaning that even if I fall asleep right now, I’ll only get four hours. The realization that tomorrow will be another exhausting day slowly solidifies into certainty.
At this point, sleep itself turns into a battle. I curl up, clutching my pillow tightly, clinging to it as if a drowning person grasping at straws, desperately trying to sleep. And then, the next thing I know—it’s 6 AM. Another day begins, just like always.
