Can’t Stay Awake

I’m tired. No, that’s not even the word for it. Exhaustion doesn’t cover it. It doesn’t matter what I’m doing—walking the streets, dancing at some party, having sex—I could collapse asleep right now without warning. Just go under. And what drives me insane is watching my actual life happen while I’m not there. It’s passing by and I’m missing it.

I went to the doctor. He said I’m fine. So I bought vitamins, energy drinks, everything that promises to keep you awake. Coffee strong enough to burn your mouth, cold water splashed on my face, beat off late at night like that would somehow shock me into consciousness. Nothing. It’s like throwing gravel at a wall—the gravel just falls.

There’s a limit to how many horror documentaries I can watch before bed just to scare myself awake. I can’t live like that. But yesterday I fell asleep while writing this, face-first into the keyboard. When I came to I was humming cartoon theme songs in my head, songs I haven’t thought about in years. That’s when it hit me: this is serious now. This is something.

What gets to me is how total it is. Not a rough week, not too much going on. Every single moment, every day, the same endless drag toward nothing. My life is passing and I’m asleep and I don’t know how to stop it. There’s got to be something wrong, something I can fix. Otherwise I’m just sliding.