I haven’t been able to sleep. It seems that nearly every night, some deep sadness just envelops me and drives back the snug embrace of slumber. The past few weeks have seen the frequency of these episodes spike.
Last night was the worst it’s hit in months: after the initial stage of numb gloom, a wave of emotion finally came crashing. I then broke out in sobs punctuated throughout with stifled screams. It was a liberating 10 minutes, though at the time I still felt trapped as ever in a cycle of inexplicable sorrow.
It was after my raw cry session ran its course, right around 4 a.m., that I decided I’ve had enough. I don’t want to be that pathetic self, laying idle in bed with nothing but tears to offer the world.
For me, the most unbearable consequence of misery is its ability to drain me of all mental and emotional energy. I lose the motivation to lift even a limb, to begin the most basic of tasks.
Being a naturally ambitious person, I get inevitably disappointed in myself when I’m not making “good” use of my time. And you can bet my productivity levels plummet whenever I’m sucked into another dismal night.
So I kept my eyes shut for an hour and breathed, hoping (without success) to procure a precious hour of sleep before sunrise. I planned to wake at 5 a.m. and begin a new day the way that’d make me happiest: with a morning jog in the placid hills nearby.
Dense fog blanketed the greenery as pale rays from a sleepy sun started to just pierce through. I spotted spiderwebs in every direction, still glistening with dew.
Maybe it’s the fresh air up here that always manages to soothe my mental state, or perhaps it’s the change in scenery. But I find myself exceptionally calm here in nature. Cheerful, even.
I think I’m going to start today with a better attitude. I’ve finally poured my feelings out into this outlet, and next, I’ll probably take a short nap to counter the sleep deprivation that’s about to set in. But I’m feeling positive about the hours ahead. Time is invaluable, and I’m not wasting mine any longer.