Insomniac
Something needs to change.
I used to be able to sleep. It wasn't an issue. Now ... well, now it takes a lot longer for me to feel tired enough to even try, a long time to actually fall asleep, and very little to wake up. It's been a long couple of weeks.
The truth is that I've gotten into some bad habits. Late-night activity (like going to Perkins last night at midnight, or eating fiber twigs about an hour ago) just encourages the problem. I don't fully understand why I do this to myself -- after all, it's all voluntary anyway -- but I seem to be having issues saying no.
Honestly, I don't want to say no.
The end is getting closer, and it's starting to feel more realistic. I'm starting to realize that I won't have a whole lot more time to see my friends, at least not as easily as I do now. That thought makes me sad, and much more intentional; I'm staying out later and spending more time doing random things than I used to.
Threats of joining the outside world bring along a whole different line of thought as well. Besides the job search and the fact that I can't rely on a coin toss to make these decisions, there's a reacquaintance with current events. In high school I kept up fairly well with the world, but when college started serious self-absorbance took over. Now my eyes are opening again, and I find things hard to deal with. Last night we watched "Hotel Rwanda" and my heart was breaking the whole time; how could people treat each other that way? How is it that we're even capable?
I know that happened over a decade ago. The relevancy still exists; these things are still happening, on smaller scales. The feelings that caused the genocide in Rwanda still exist. That's where it starts.
And here I sit, in my comfortable home in the United States, far enough removed from the world to wonder if I'll ever make a difference, complaining that I can't sleep when it's all self-induced anyway. If I was the only one, the rules would be different ... but I'm not. There are so many of us, waiting for it to be "our turn" to get out there and do something about it, when we most likely already have the capabilities to change things and are just lacking the nerve.
I'm not convinced I'll ever move from this spot. That's almost reason enough to not sleep tonight.
Sometimes I cannot forgive
And these days, mercy cuts so deep
If the world was how it should be, maybe I could get some sleep
While I lay, I dream we're better,
Scales were gone and faces light
When we wake, we hate our brother
We still move to hurt each other
Sometimes I can close my eyes,
And all the fear that keeps me silent falls below my heavy breathing,
What makes me so badly bent?
We all have a chance to murder
We all feel the need for wonder
We still want to be reminded that the pain is worth the thunder
Sometimes when I lose my grip, I wonder what to make of heaven
All the times I thought to reach up
All the times I had to give
Babies underneath their beds
Hospitals that cannot treat all the wounds that money causes,
All the comforts of cathedrals
All the cries of thirsty children - this is our inheritance
All the rage of watching mothers - this is our greatest offense
Oh my God
Oh my God
Oh my God
-Jars of Clay, "Oh My God," from Good Monsters
I used to be able to sleep. It wasn't an issue. Now ... well, now it takes a lot longer for me to feel tired enough to even try, a long time to actually fall asleep, and very little to wake up. It's been a long couple of weeks.
The truth is that I've gotten into some bad habits. Late-night activity (like going to Perkins last night at midnight, or eating fiber twigs about an hour ago) just encourages the problem. I don't fully understand why I do this to myself -- after all, it's all voluntary anyway -- but I seem to be having issues saying no.
Honestly, I don't want to say no.
The end is getting closer, and it's starting to feel more realistic. I'm starting to realize that I won't have a whole lot more time to see my friends, at least not as easily as I do now. That thought makes me sad, and much more intentional; I'm staying out later and spending more time doing random things than I used to.
Threats of joining the outside world bring along a whole different line of thought as well. Besides the job search and the fact that I can't rely on a coin toss to make these decisions, there's a reacquaintance with current events. In high school I kept up fairly well with the world, but when college started serious self-absorbance took over. Now my eyes are opening again, and I find things hard to deal with. Last night we watched "Hotel Rwanda" and my heart was breaking the whole time; how could people treat each other that way? How is it that we're even capable?
I know that happened over a decade ago. The relevancy still exists; these things are still happening, on smaller scales. The feelings that caused the genocide in Rwanda still exist. That's where it starts.
And here I sit, in my comfortable home in the United States, far enough removed from the world to wonder if I'll ever make a difference, complaining that I can't sleep when it's all self-induced anyway. If I was the only one, the rules would be different ... but I'm not. There are so many of us, waiting for it to be "our turn" to get out there and do something about it, when we most likely already have the capabilities to change things and are just lacking the nerve.
I'm not convinced I'll ever move from this spot. That's almost reason enough to not sleep tonight.
Sometimes I cannot forgive
And these days, mercy cuts so deep
If the world was how it should be, maybe I could get some sleep
While I lay, I dream we're better,
Scales were gone and faces light
When we wake, we hate our brother
We still move to hurt each other
Sometimes I can close my eyes,
And all the fear that keeps me silent falls below my heavy breathing,
What makes me so badly bent?
We all have a chance to murder
We all feel the need for wonder
We still want to be reminded that the pain is worth the thunder
Sometimes when I lose my grip, I wonder what to make of heaven
All the times I thought to reach up
All the times I had to give
Babies underneath their beds
Hospitals that cannot treat all the wounds that money causes,
All the comforts of cathedrals
All the cries of thirsty children - this is our inheritance
All the rage of watching mothers - this is our greatest offense
Oh my God
Oh my God
Oh my God
-Jars of Clay, "Oh My God," from Good Monsters
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