How can I feel so alive while everyone else is sleeping? Our bodies are like machines—programmed to wake with the sun and sleep with the moon. But somehow the clock inside me is reversed and the moon becomes my sun.
I just sat there in my dark room staring up at the ceiling trying to find a way to fall asleep, but all I ended up doing was watching to time change on my clock. Every night I was so unexplainably restless. How romantic would it have been if I was some talented artist or poet—suffering through the day to come alive with creative energy from the moonlight?
But I was a cursedly horrible artist and writer even at three o’clock in the morning. I’ve tried it. Still, I have this aching feeling inside me that I’m supposed to be doing something other than watching the minutes fly by.
I could always take the boring logical route and say I have insomnia or some other sleep disorder, but I know I don’t.
I’m not tired right now; my body doesn’t crave sleep like it should. There’s so many things I should be doing…I should be sleeping…I should be studying for school…And according to my mom, I should be listening to her.
But I can’t, for what is there to do when you live in the middle of nowhere with your mind in a galaxy far away from everyone else’s. What do you do when there is nothing to do?
You run away.