When the night is long

I lay on my bed trying my best to sleep. It would be my first day of work tomorrow. And i gotta be there by 9am.

Its funny how i can find it difficult to sleep in my own home. And find such ease sleeping at another.

Every shadow in the room becomes prominent. Every sound magnifies with every hour i stay awake.

The rattle of the calender against the wall. The smacking of the bookmark i placed on the cupboard handle.

My bed seems so hard. My pillow like soiled sponge. The bolster felt like paper between my legs. The blanket too thick for my liking. The fan too loud.

Suddenly i feel more alone than ever. I let my mind wander to thoughts that will only keep me more awake.

This is the part i really dislike about ‘getting over’.

This part that will make people feel that one hour is like 7 hours.

I think about the things that has past. especially the bad parts. Dwell on the fantasy that if i could go back in time and change things, how it may have been now.

I think about my vague future. Praying for better days ahead. I imagine a good family. Nice house. Even children.

Somehow in the middle of thinking. Its the nice stuff that puts me to sleep.