sleep. an irrational beast that depends on the lack of activity, so that one might slip into their temporary off state. it's to "recharge your batteries", so to speak. a way to slowly push your thoughts from the, usually, more comfortable state of consciousness, to the unknown and forgetful existence of the unconscious.
sometimes you aren't ready to let your thoughts slip away, and you're stuck til four in the morning every morning, for a week.

in the first person, I wonder why this is? maybe I'm afraid of what my mind will remember on its own? bubbling with memories best forgotten, while I try to entertain the idea that I'm in control. maybe, my subconsciousness is tired of numbing itself to my common nightmares?
oh, mind of mine, lacking rational matter, and so on.

there are faces and memories best forgotten, both happy and sad.
maybe the mind doesn't want the inevitable darkness to close in?
that may be too bad though.
I turned off my night light sixteen years ago,
and haven't missed it since I was three years old.

please let me drift off to nothing.
let me say goodnight this morning.
let me close these doors,
watching the little red car turn left at the end of the street.
close these eyes,
remembering every moment of discomfort and discontent.
close this heart,
like I should remember, or keep these things close.

in all honestly, I keep very little close to me.
it's a coping mechanism that was passed onto me;
as in its easier to cope when there's next to nothing there.
or something.

good time.