it's the insomnia talking

It's 3:45 A.M. 
I brushed my teeth 5 hours ago.
I was in my bed by 12:30.

But now I am wide awake. 
I am frustrated. 
I am tired.
I am sick of sleeping on my couch. 
I want a mattress filled with marshmallow kittens and angel wing feathers. 

Oh my goodness just the thought of something so beautiful brings me to tears.

I am a chronic insomniac. 

Okay so one of my weaknesses are all five hours between 7 AM and 12 PM. Okay so I'm not a morning person. I'M SORRY MY BODY WILL  REJECT ANY SORT OF PHYSICAL INACTIVITY. 

I've had this problem for a long time. It was just never to a point where I would do something about it. But my poor, fragile, and sensitive limbs can only take so many years of the torture chamber that is my bed frame. This school year I have been tossed a voodooed mattress of death and for the last couple weeks I have laid down only to feel the springs stabbing me in the back. 

My roommates and I have concluded that it is The Mattress of The Devil (no but seriously because it literally is sinking in the middle, like it's legitimately trying to suck me into a fiery hell of arthritis or something). So for the last couple weeks I have been sleeping on my couch. Yep. The couch. There's that so...

I don't remember the last time when I woke up actually feeling refreshed and ready for the day. No really I'm actually trying to think of a specific time but all I remember is a faint dream that has already faded. I've never had one of those fairy tale mornings with the sun shining and the birds chirping and all my critter friends helping me get dressed as we all whistle while we work and join in song. No my mornings usually consist of a similar scenario to that of a Slipknot music video. It's literally traumatizing. 

Insomnia is one of the cruelest jokes your body can play on you. It's incredibly distressing, sitting here, looking at the clock, knowing that my body will hate my brain tomorrow when it starts eating itself because I will be a zombie. I don't understand how my legs are still so jumpy when they are so physically exhausted and sore. I feel like World War 3 is going on inside and everyone is Hitler. Everything is empty inside my head so what fuel is it running off of? Maybe it's the thousands of my thoughts commuting to all different directions at high speeds. But why now? Why at 5 in the morning is that when my brain feels most active? Why do I mentally thrive when I'm physically wasted? WHY WHY WHY? Insomnia is the most terrible internal battle of them all. 

It's not my fault! Trust me, I try! I TRY OH HOW I TRY. After years of consistent insufficient sleep, I know how the story goes. Scene:

I enter the bed. 
I pray to be watched over as I sleep and to get a good night's rest.
I let my head flutter softly upon the goose feather loaf of lushness.
Eyes are shut tight. 
Buried beneath mountains of blankets, quilts, comforters. 
Perry the Platypus stuffed animal tucked fast in my arms. 
Body proportioned to comfortable perfection. 
The scene is set.

And yet...

my muscles ache. 
I toss and I turn. 
My body is not shutting down.

After about an hour, I then play my lullaby playlist with songs featuring the likes of Jack Johnson, John Mayer, FOR GOODNESS SAKE ALLISON KRAUSS!
Ah but obviously that is not going to work because I mean, come on, it's Allison Krauss, she is just too darn catchy.
Curse you Allison Krauss.

Then begins the desperate search for the one cure out of hundreds of attempts that will lull me to sleep for the evening.

I've tried them all.
Scriptures.
General Conference talks. 
Food.
Running. 
Thinking.
Not thinking.
Baking raspberry lemonade bars.
TV.
Hot Chocolate.
Books. 
Rearrange the furniture.
All of "whatshouldwecallme" tumblr.
Flipping the pillow.
Youtube.
Researching potential diseases or phobias I might have such as Zemmiphobia.
Organizing your clothes by color.
Organizing your clothes by type of garment.
Organzing your clothes by nothing.

PAUSE LITERALLY SOMEONE JUST WALKED UP THE STAIRS. LITERALLY WHAT ARE YOU DOING OUT AT 4:30 IN THE MORNING ON A SCHOOL NIGHT? LITERALLY I WILL FIND YOU AND LITERALLY I WILL TELL YOUR MOM MARK MY WORDS RESIDENTS OF WELLINGTON II.

Jazzercise.
Stalking myself on Facebook. As far back as you can go like dark ages of junior high far back.
New hobbies like hackysack or floral design.
DRUGS. 
Blogging.................................................................(hahahaha)

And then all of the sudden it is 5:04 A.M.

My dear friends of the Internet. Someone. ANYONE. Help me. SAVE me. I beg you. I know I know, I should go see someone about it. I'm going to the doctor next week and they will give me all the drugs to make it all better. I'll just pop more pills because drugs are ALWAAAAAYS the answer. But surely there must be another way?? I will give you a jar of my tears of happiness and then the whole world if you solve this consciousness conundrum. I need a miracle. Or a mattress cover.

Or maybe I should just give up. It's hopeless. I'm a lost cause. Go on without me friends. Save yourselves. Maybe I am just forever cursed to roam the earth in this Dracula state. The light at the end of this tunnel is only growing brighter and bigger and it's stupid because I CAN'T SLEEP WITH THOSE CUSSING LIGHTS ON TURN THEM OFF GEEEEEEZ.

I can't wait to read this tomorrow when I'm only somewhat delirious.