I shunned you in my youth. I traded you for the cooler kids I found in books. I abandoned you for archaeology shows, foreign films and any news show involving Peter Jennings.
Even though we had plans at 10 or 11, I always ditched you for my math homework. I’m sorry, but Physics made more sense when everyone else had gone to bed. And essays on ancient Judaic & Sumerian goddesses just flow better at 3am.
Sometimes, we’d see each other at 5 or 6 in the evening but then there were friends and boys and still too many books to read for me take a break from living to spend any time with you.
I really never cared for you much. I hate to be so blunt, but you and I both know it’s true. Yoga taught me that you were even more unnecessary than I thought. Midnight and 5am meditations kept me as happy and alive as a candy raver on meth.
But now, dear Sleep, I have accepted that I need you. I’ve accepted that for quite some time. Yet, you are denying me. I hardly see you. When I do, it’s as if you aren’t really here. Like you’re somewhere else or you’re only around for an hour before you run away. Where exactly are you going? My brain is still tired! What makes you think that just because you’ve had enough you can up and walk out of my bed like that?
I court you with wine, Stoli, Jameson, nutmeg, chamomile, melatonin and nasty pills that give me even more wacked out dreams than you give me on your own. (I assume those little night terrors are just your way of getting back at me for dissing you all these years.)
Darling Sleep, I humbly apologize for not thinking you were cool enough. I’m sorry for ditching you for books, boys and Byzantium. I am sorry for bullying you with midnight coffee parties and loud chants of Sat Nam.
Please, let’s try to make this relationship work.