Nocturnal Admissions


I haven’t been sleeping much lately. This is a fairly common thing with me.

When I was younger I could never call it a day because something hadn’t happened yet. I never knew what that something was, just that it hadn’t happened.

These days, it’s quite the opposite. Everything is happening.

Sometimes I’m listening to music, typing away for work or play. Writing checklists, or scratching things off.

I used to lay awake thinking about the things I wanted to do; now I sit and think about what needs to be done. It’s an evolution of thought brought about by an evolution of life, so I’m comfortable with this train ride.



It’s never that simple.

When I’m working, I’m not only thinking about what needs to be done, I’m doing it. It takes a certain amount of focus even for someone like me, who is in a constant state of charming dishevelment throughout my waking hours.

It’s probably because I need more sleep.



It’s those other times, when I sit in silence writing the great American narrative in my head, words that never escape the steel trappings of a distracted man, that keep me up at night.

It’s those quiet moments, when my woman is asleep, keeping the bed warm…as the dogs curl up around me, that Pandora’s box is opened, just a crack.


It follows me like so many living ghosts. My life. Those moments.

All of them.

The ones you want to relive again and again and those moments you wish you could take back. A twisted nostalgia that leaves one pining for the innocence of youth, but with the jaded knowledge picked up since.

This train of thought is not bred out of discontentment, nor tainted by too much regret. It’s what we never have time to think about when there’s so much else to be done—what we wish would fade quietly away like a dream you know you had, but can’t quite remember.

It’s hard to fully let go of the past sometimes, for fear it will vanish altogether.

It takes time to vanquish demons and cast out ghosts—making peace with oneself, and the things we hold onto…the things that haunt us, when left alone with our thoughts.


At least it gives me something to think about, when I can’t fall asleep.



7 Responses to “Nocturnal Admissions”

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