I think I might have fucking cracked sleep!

holy shit holy shit holy shit.

I am a life long insomniac, so this is a big old deal.

If you’re already a good sleeper, then you won’t need this article, and also you can GO AND FUCK YOURSELF you lucky, privileged, smug bastard. You are the person I am the most jealous of in the world, you are holding more wealth than you can imagine. I would, without flinching, trade in all the success, money and adventures I’ve had to just be a good sleeper. Insomnia is the absolute ghetto of the mind, body and soul.

It’s a life half lived. It is a spirit half baked. It is years of the loneliest, darkest and most despairing hours in the middle of the night, begging for the mercy of switching off for a few hours. It’s wading through treacle every day from 4pm. It’s the terror of knowing that you’re dying a little/much faster than everyone else because sleep is the cornerstone of health. It’s a lower sex drive. It’s a grey lens on the world. It’s nihilism and hopelessness. It’s being desperate for donuts all fucking day because you need some respite and consolation. It’s wanting to literally stab anyone who said they had a restful night. Or more so who complains about only getting 6-7 hours. Cunts.

It is a truly cruel affliction. One for which there is far too little sympathy. Nobody really witnesses it. It is a private, daily, devastation, for which there are no possible words of comfort. Everything everyone says is fucking annoying, no Jessica, I won’t be ok, it won’t be ok, I know I look terrible, and yes I’ve tried fucking chamomile tea, why don’t you go and shove a scalding cup right up your well rested pussy eh? This is what I mean. It turns me into a MONSTER. I become a vengeful, jealous, hateful piece of shit. Venom is seeping out of my pores. It’s been 39 years of this. Most of my letters to you have been written at 3am in the throes of my insomnia when I needed someone to talk to.