A few nights later, I secretly hope that I might be a genius. Why else can no amount of sleeping pills fell my brain? But in the morning my daughter asks me what a cloud is and I cannot say.

I'm an insomniac, my mind works the night shift.

It is at night when sleep like the outgoing sea leaves you dry and cold and the morning light arrives like a small punishment.

Bedtime is fraught with fear and disappointment. When it is just me alone with my restless body and mind, I feel like the whole world is asleep and gone. It's very lonely. I am tired of being tired and talking about how tired I am.

She once again thought about how badly she wanted to crawl back beneath the mound of already cooling blankets that covered her bed like an inviting nest.

A thought experiment courtesy of the Stoics. If you are tired of everything you possess, imagine that you have lost all these things.