I was able to finally sleep. Eleven hours of dreamless heaven brought back a bit of my sanity and calmed my overly stressed heart.
The other day, I twisted and turned on my bed. I tried reading Tai-Pan by James Clavell for a few minutes but realized it's not helping me relax any bit. I changed my bed sheets. I went back to twisting and turning. I went to my table and started making plans for the apartments that my Uncle plans on building. After two, not just one but two, optional plans that I can present to him this weekend I went back to bed. Again, I started my twisting ang turning. At this point, I realized this is becoming ruthless.
I need all the sleep I can get. How can go to work and do an outstanding job if my eyes are forever droopy? I need to sleep. I need to rest.
After another hour or so, I reached for the phone. I called a good friend who was more than happy to accompany me for a few minutes even when I am robbing him of his own sleep. Then we said goodbye, armed with his wishes of a few hours worth of sleep.
I went back to bed. I laid as still as I can. Half an hour later, my legs are tingling and my left arm's aching, I think I lost my neck and my head hurts like hell.
So I stood at the foot of my bed and cursed every single dust mite that is living there. I took my shower, ate my dinner, got dressed and went to work.
I'm no longer a dreaming insomiac. I'm a working insomiac by fate.
The other day, I twisted and turned on my bed. I tried reading Tai-Pan by James Clavell for a few minutes but realized it's not helping me relax any bit. I changed my bed sheets. I went back to twisting and turning. I went to my table and started making plans for the apartments that my Uncle plans on building. After two, not just one but two, optional plans that I can present to him this weekend I went back to bed. Again, I started my twisting ang turning. At this point, I realized this is becoming ruthless.
I need all the sleep I can get. How can go to work and do an outstanding job if my eyes are forever droopy? I need to sleep. I need to rest.
After another hour or so, I reached for the phone. I called a good friend who was more than happy to accompany me for a few minutes even when I am robbing him of his own sleep. Then we said goodbye, armed with his wishes of a few hours worth of sleep.
I went back to bed. I laid as still as I can. Half an hour later, my legs are tingling and my left arm's aching, I think I lost my neck and my head hurts like hell.
So I stood at the foot of my bed and cursed every single dust mite that is living there. I took my shower, ate my dinner, got dressed and went to work.
I'm no longer a dreaming insomiac. I'm a working insomiac by fate.
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