Yesterday was Sunday in my part of the world. I slept through most of it. I felt I deserved it. But then there was a part of me that felt guilty. Guilty of wasting away my precious one day off in the futility of a broken dream.
I woke up late. Tried reading a book. Read three pages and went off to sleep. Because I have trouble sleeping most nights. I have trouble waking up every day. And there used to be a time when I used to sleep late and wake up late. But the days I sleep early, I still wake up late. I look at my alarm and wonder, ‘what’s the point of waking up?’. So I don’t. I cancel the snooze and set the alarm after another hour.
The irony of it is just funny. First – I don’t want to sleep. Then – I struggle and push myself to sleep. And then when I am asleep – I don’t want to wake up.