Dear Insomnia,
When I told you that we needed to talk, I didn’t mean to alarm you. No, this isn’t the end of us. I feel that every so often we should be able to asses our relations… to be clear with our understanding each other—communication is critical for a tricky relationship like ours. Listen, I know you get a little jealous when I run off a few times a week with Sleep, but I need you to understand that it’s not by choice. While I’d love to confess that I would never be seeing Sleep again, I am a simple man who, as you know, falls often to the alluring sirens of the mind. I would love nothing more than to spend these nights with you over good books and warm cups of coffee.
There’s something about you that Sleep could never do for me. You create this warm dimness, in which I still retain control of my thoughts, my dreams. Sleep would never do that. She’s treacherous and loves to whisper unwanted secrets from my core. You never go digging, and I’m glad that we can respect each other’s privacy. Things both dreary and miraculous happen when we’re together. While the balance is nothing short of chaos, I think that’s a fantastic recipe for intimacy. I enjoy these nights we share, whether it’s in the cold of my dorm room or driving together for some 4 A.M. sushi, listening to the soft Jazz that the radio would play for us.
Insomnia, I hope that you can come to love and appreciate me without the changes you’ve asked for. If one of us were to change, then both of us will. I’ve tried to hate you for the red eyes and exhausted lifestyle, but one can hardly hate themselves without consequence. We’re meant to be!
Very truly yours,
Me
Ps. I’m not trying to make you jealous, but I did see Sleep yesterday. When I did, I stopped breathing again. And she did nothing! I spent nearly an hour disoriented from the apnea. If I had stayed with you and brewed some more coffee, this wouldn’t have happened. You were right.
Stage Fright 