Bedtime Creative Nonfiction Teens & Young Adult

I can hear the birds chirping quietly outside even though the sun has not deigned to rise. Here I lay waiting. Waiting for what? I'm not quite sure. My mind seems to think in these hours when sleep should overwhelm me that I am wasting time. That I need to get up and start on all of the things I failed to accomplish in my life. Sleep when you are a child is something you fight so that you can keep playing and moving, it overtakes you even when you are not ready for it. But now that I have gained so many years sleep eludes me. It laughs and runs away to the corners of my mind. It holds itself at a distance just as I was getting close to making its acquaintance. Sleep, which was once a close friend, has decided to cut ties with me. It's decided that I am no longer worthy of it's presence even though I have laid out invitation after invitation to invite it back in.

I lay here and think to myself about all of the years I wasted trying and doing and never fully succeeding at any of it. If had done this or that where would I be now. Would I be so far away from my goals and tasks? Would I be someone different? Someone who doesn't have to ask these questions?

My mind shifts from me to drown itself in painful memories, focusing on the sorrow of those I have lost. Forcing me to grasp and hold on to the moments I wish I could live again as they slip and slide through my memory. Its as if every good thought is accompanied with one that I want to forget. Each memory bringing a new pain that keeps me awake.

Adjusting the pillow does nothing for I am as comfortable as one could be when they are tired but can not sleep. I run my hands across the soft comforter and adjust my body from back to side, side to back, and then lay on my stomach, but no amount of comfort brings sleep closer to me.

I take deep calming breaths and listen to the sounds around me. The fan ticks softly as it moves from side to side, blowing the cool air throughout the room. Making each movement I must make turn into one where I touch the cold of the sheet, the shock of which only helps to keep me awake. I start to hear the dog roll over and the sounds of cars pulling out of their driveways. Or maybe they are just getting in for the night? I do not feel the need to get up and look because every limb in my body aches to run and move in my dreams but I do anyway. My bones creak as I walk to the other side of the room and peak out of the shades, the feel of the cold night seeps through the glass and touches the tips of my fingers as I watch cars pull into their driveways. Laughing people, drunk and stumbling find their way to their doors. Lights on then off quickly as sleep immediately overtakes them. But alcohol only ever helped to keep me awake, always offering the feeling of missing out and reminding me why I had to drink alone.

So now as I lay here bones begging for sleep I am at a loss on how to find my dear old friend again. Even my routine at night is supposed to help me find that part of my mind where REM takes over, or so says my therapist.

When you get ready for bed turn off all electronics, then a hot bath with chamomile to calm your nerves, don't read. Why? Because you may get to a part where you want to know more and stay up to read more. Just float in the warm water and listen to the drips of the faucet, clear your mind and close your eyes and breathe in the scent. Relax. Then quietly ready yourself for bed, turn off all the lights, and rest.

It all seems so easy, right? I do everything she suggests even turning off the lights while I bathe but sleep runs from me as if we are playing a game.

It shy's away from me around the corner of my mind just as I was beginning to fall into it's dark comforting abyss. The sound of door slamming shut brings me right back to consciousness. And yet I know the sound wasn't real. It's just a way for my brain to protect me, to keep me awake. Every night I ask and I beg my mind to rest, "Please", I say, "let me sleep." But my brain refuses defiantly.

I lay here and the sun starts to rise the sleepy song of the birds becomes more cheerful and the dread in my mind eases its way to settle in for the long day. It seem almost proud of itself for staying up and not allowing sleep in. I sit up pulling the covers off and slump to the side of the bed. The day is starting and my bones are aching begging me to lay back down, it's almost as if they are saying maybe if I try again with the sun shining through my window, my fears will subside and sleep will allow me a drink to quench my thirst. But the sun rises and dawn begins to slip through my grasp, sleep does not find me in my last attempt to rest. I must rise and let my sleep deprived mind rot in silence as I grab my mask with shaking hands from the bedside table, this mask, my mask, I wear in front of others to hide my puffy red rimmed eyes. Slowly, I walk to look in the mirror and make the adjustments I need to hide behind my own lies. The mask smiles back at me and again I don't recognize my own face. It moves when I do but it's perfectly happy although I am dying inside.

Don't let them see what is hiding beneath. You can't let them know. Don't let it show. You must hide your feelings deep inside. You can't let them know how many tears you've cried.

I adjust my fake smile one last time and walk out to see the sunrise.

Posted Aug 11, 2025
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