prisoner of insomnia

All day my feet trudge heavy across cement walkways, exhaustion bearing down upon my shoulders. I long for sleep, for the comfort of my bed, for a few precious hours to escape the chaos of daily life and get lost in dreams of snow-covered mountains and nights sitting fireside with a good book and red wine. I catch sight of myself in a mirror and the dark circles beneath my eyes glare back at me, begging for sleep, for rest, for peace. But as the day continues, as the sun sets and the darkness settles in, sleep becomes a long-lost friend whom I cannot seem to find. Perhaps it is the quiet of the night, the silence that surrounds me, bringing momentary glimpses of tomorrow. Perhaps it is the only time that I can justifiably allow myself to put away the textbooks, to forget the reports, to let go of the worries that daylight brings. Or perhaps it is a rising fear or loneliness or the endless spinning cycles of my thoughts. Whatever it is, when night falls and the sky becomes an ebony blanket, my body refuses to rest. My mind refuses to surrender to the serenity of sleep. And I am left here alone with too many thoughts, too many worries, and the knowledge that yet another day will greet me before I am ready to awaken.