It is 4am.
But it doesn’t matter. Time has clearly stopped. The universe has come to a halt. The entropy calculations were way off. Why should I keep looking at the clock? Of this point I am more sure than of anything else: it will always be 4am.
Sleep eludes me. Once, we were closest friends; we would spend quality time together each night. But I took her for granted these years and now she has left me.
And to be replaced by such a cruel and unpredictable mistress! Oh, Insomnia! Though your name may sound beautiful, your silence tortures me and your cruel soul taunts me with cold scorn.
I am deafened by the quiet. The universe is me, and me alone. Oh, how I wish for a sign of someone else. Something! Anything! How I yearn for a rapping upon my chamber door! The merest hint of another soul! No stirring from my flatmates, no car engines in the street outside. I am truly alone.
The walls are closing in. Madness beckons. Ah, yes; the madness. Wherever the Lady Insomnia visits, her Lord Delirium is never far behind.
The clock mocks me with its red-LEDs of arrogance. Stop staring at me, O dragon-eyed guardian of my pain! But if that clock is to be believed, I shall be back at work in only a few hours. It might as well be a thousand years.
My colleagues will wake from their blissful, perfect slumber; beautiful in its simplicity and purity. Oh, how I hate them! For certain: they shall look upon my ravaged countenance. They will single me out as The Crazy One. Truly, if there ever were a bunch of weirdos who know a Crazy One when they see one, it is they!
Well, let them wonder! Let them plot and scheme and whisper amongst themselves over their morning coffee! Let them plan their mirth and merriment and the evolution of their social-lives without me. I shall not care! I shall be resting my fevour’d brow ‘gainst my desk; listening to the throbbing metronome inside my head pound ever onwards to my final breath. I shall emplore them all to keep their voice down as I pray for The End to come at all speed.
I want a Curly-Wurly. Oh, great riddle of the chocolatey world! Teach me of your wisdom! Your very shape – entwined strands of gooey chewiness – a metaphor for the entwined and infinitely-complex tapestry that is Life Itself! You invite mystery and intrigue with your wrapper, give pleasure with the viscose reluctance of your chewy centre; and then you taint me with the chocolatey bits that flake off and stick to my T-shirt.
And I’m sure they used to make them much bigger when I was a boy.
Mad, am I? Am I mad? Mad I am? I am mad? What is madness? I simply experience a greater degree of clarity than others. The Voices speak to us all, but most choose to ignore them. I cannot be mad for heeding them; for listening to their counsel. You are mad to tune them out! I laugh at you, thinking me mad! Ahahahahahahah…a! Hahahaha! Aha!
I look out of my window. The yellow street lights give the scene an artifical sheen. Soon, the sun will rise – the final bell, signalling the end of my fight for sleep. I will have lost this round.
Then I hear one of my flatmates stir, get up and visit the bathroom. I consider waiting for them when they get out. I need a hug!
I decide against it; it might make me seem … odd. I’ll go and put the kettle on instead.
And if this posting doesn’t get me sectioned under the Mental Health Act, I don’t know what will.