Lately, sleep and I have been on pretty terrible terms. Like, we’re talking full-on breakup status. I’m out here busting my butt, running around, doing a million things every day, and what do I get in return? Maybe four hours of trash sleep that does absolutely nothing for me. I need sleep like a plant needs water—except this plant is shriveling up, turning crispy around the edges, and might be a little too far gone.
It’s been about a week of this nonsense. A week! You’d think at some point my body would just collapse from sheer exhaustion, but nope, here I am, eyes wide open at 1 a.m., wondering why the hell my brain insists on replaying every embarrassing moment from middle school. Seriously, it’s like my brain’s idea of a fun night out is to remind me how I tripped in front of my entire 7th-grade class. Thanks, mind, love you for that.
Now, the lack of quality sleep is starting to hit hard. I’m walking around like a zombie that forgot how to groan properly. The to-do list just keeps getting longer, and my ability to care about any of it is getting shorter. I swear, I could watch a slow-motion car crash and be like, “Well, at least they’re getting a nap afterward.”
It’s starting to feel like I’m running on fumes, but even the fumes are like, “Girl, we’re outta here.” There’s so much to do, and yet I’m stuck in this loop of being so tired that I can’t do any of it well, which just makes me more tired. And don’t even get me started on coffee. That traitor just tricks me into thinking I’m functioning when I’m actually one yawn away from collapsing in the middle of Walmart.
If I don’t get a decent night’s sleep soon, I might just lose it. I’m talking full-on, leave-my-sanity-behind-and-move-into-the-woods level meltdown. But for now, I’ll keep dragging myself through the days, clutching my cold brew like it’s life support, and hoping that someday, somehow, sleep will come back to me like a clingy ex I pretend not to want but secretly need.
Fabulously Fabulous 
Leave a comment