Up All Night
It is a cliche situation - one that's happened to many other out-of-their-minds girlfriends. How ironic it is that something so normal feels so out of place in my tired, sleep-forsaken body. I say this because now, I am officially one of the mass of people suffering from a 24hour insomnia virus. The cause? Wondering what my other half is doing.
I know she's asleep. I know she has long been dreaming the sleep of peace, but I can't seem to do the same. Her mind is playing with details of scenarios, working together a picture perfect production the likes of which our cinemas will not see for decades more. Her hand is absently rubbing her nose, her nose that stiffens with the cold. Her fingers are lightly wrapped around the soft toy I gave to her at Christmas, her throat making its special clicking noise. Her hair is slipping over the smooth panes of her cheeks, as she turns her head with the softest snore.
I on the other hand, am lying in bed on a growling stomach, eyes lidding with the veins of sleep. My hair is in place, unruffled by a night unslept. I can feel the growth of plaque in my mouth, shimmering my breath in its unique colour. My head is feeling the roots of a mind-numbing ache that will hopefully not plague me the rest of today.
The reason for my torture is simple. We didn't have a good night call.
Oh God I'm pathetic. I know I am. Pathetic.
Trust me, I keep trying to sleep. I just... can't.
-Jacqueline
I know she's asleep. I know she has long been dreaming the sleep of peace, but I can't seem to do the same. Her mind is playing with details of scenarios, working together a picture perfect production the likes of which our cinemas will not see for decades more. Her hand is absently rubbing her nose, her nose that stiffens with the cold. Her fingers are lightly wrapped around the soft toy I gave to her at Christmas, her throat making its special clicking noise. Her hair is slipping over the smooth panes of her cheeks, as she turns her head with the softest snore.
I on the other hand, am lying in bed on a growling stomach, eyes lidding with the veins of sleep. My hair is in place, unruffled by a night unslept. I can feel the growth of plaque in my mouth, shimmering my breath in its unique colour. My head is feeling the roots of a mind-numbing ache that will hopefully not plague me the rest of today.
The reason for my torture is simple. We didn't have a good night call.
Oh God I'm pathetic. I know I am. Pathetic.
Trust me, I keep trying to sleep. I just... can't.
-Jacqueline
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