12:46 a.m.

I am officially one hour down on sleep for the night. Work begins when my alarm goes off in approximately seven hours. And work is keeping me awake. The deal with the devil that never ends until either I freak out and run screaming from the office box, or I somehow piss off my employers enough to fire me. Nothing specific about work, really. Just the nature of it. The fact that it is never done. There is always something more to do and loads of time to do it. All the time must be accounted for, and all the work must be done. This used to be fun, in a way. The work was not just a repeat of a repeat of a repeat. But when you're doing a report based on two previous reports with no new information, just a bit of shuffling of the pages and some consolidation of the data, it seems like maybe you're doing the exact same thing you did the week before. The only differences are the jokes you tell as you do the work. And sometimes those have been endlessly recycled as well.

1:24 a.m.

Maybe I am getting old. All of the things I see people be fascinated by, the things they do with their spare time I just don't understand. I don't want to do them. And I don't want to hang out while they do them in some sort of bonding ritual. If I'm just doing what they like to do, I'm not really being me, am I? I'm just being someone who doesn't screw with the status quo. And should I give up my wants and needs just so someone else feels comfortable about me being around?

So I'm outside the inner circle because it's not a place I want to be. It's just like junior high and high school. It's just like it was when I thought I wasn't cool because I didn't want to do what everyone else did for fun way back in the day. So what has changed? Why are we still following this strange social order where your importance is based on what you will do against your will with a smile on your face? I didn't follow the rules then, and I'm not about to start.

2:07 a.m.

I'm starting to become worried. And because I'm getting worried, I'm getting less inclined to fall asleep. Cars go by on our street, and I watch the lights move designs across my walls and ceiling. No gunshots yet tonight, but then it is a week day. For about fifteen seconds it feels like all of the insects in the world are crawling up and down my legs...and then I realize it's just my leg hair moving against the sheet. That was fucking weird. Maybe I am tired. Maybe I can get to sleep tonight. Let me change position again. Yeah, that feels good. It should take no time at all to fall asleep now.

2:29 a.m.

What the fuck?

[a fierce battle with my sheets, pillows, comforter and mattress ensues...punches and swipes and pushes and pulls...a brief scream into my pillow, muffled of course so I don't wake up anyone else]

Maybe that will tire me out.

3:02 a.m.

Nope.

3:15 a.m.

She's right there, staring at me, wondering what I'm going to do next. Sometimes we talk with our eyes because if we said anything out loud, it would be all over. The perfect world I want to exist in will never occur, so to even talk about it makes it even more impossible to reach. So the banter, the looks, the game continues, even to the point where the unnamed is almost said. And just at that point we back off, apologizing and blushing and changing the subject.

There's got to be a way to get this out of my head.

4:40 a.m.

I wake up because my roommate is getting up for work. An early day. I am relieved to find out that I have indeed slept for a while. And it's this relief that makes it easy to fall again into the black.

7:35 a.m.

I decide to try and sleep as long as I can and go into work late. I turn off my alarm.

7:48 a.m.

The alarm doesn't go off, but I wake up anyway.

8:07 a.m.

I'm not getting back to sleep, so I throw my covers off and face the day for real. Somehow I'm pretty sure this is going to be one long messed up day.

Matt Worley has trouble sleeping sometimes.