I lead two lives. Like Superman. Except, I don’t have a costume. Nor do I leave my house. Or save the world. Maybe I save myself.
I lead two lives because one is not enough to do all that I need to do. To do all that I want to do. So I have this hack, this illusion of living two days in one. Two days instead of one.
In the quiet of the night when gentle snores fill the bedroom, I slip away to begin another day. One where I move as I please, unanchored, untethered, answering to myself. Doing one thing at a time.
When do I sleep? What is sleep? I have no answer. Sleep and I, we are no longer best friends, no longer on talking terms.
Like the lead actors of a romantic movie, we are never in sync, never in love at the same time. Sleep comes when I need to stay awake, when I have no choice but to fight it. And when I lay on my bed, staring into the darkness, waiting to drift away, sleep is nowhere to be seen.
Only in the dead of the night, after I’ve lived another day, do we agree to a truce. A few hours of peace. Because soon the sun will be up and sleep and I, we need to begin our little dance all over again.