You think the worst thoughts at 4am.
The worst part of yourself emerges at 4:01am.
You wonder who you truly are at 4:02am.
You wonder if anyone will ever know the real you at 4:03am.
You hope someone will like you for who you really are at 4:04am.
You question your capacity to love at 4:05am.
You wonder what the hell happened to your life at 4:06am.
You pop a pill at 4:07am.
Insomnia is a painful, lonely struggle. Dolce is of little company past 9pm, her official bed-time. I have tried insomnia sprays, warm milk, exercise, TV, no TV, reading – but my only saving grace are pills. On one of my many sleepless nights, I remember thinking about a line from Natalie Imbruglia’s “Torn“.
Illusion never changed into something real
I’m wide awake and I can see the perfect sky is torn
You’re a little late, I’m already torn.