confessions of a confused insomniac

// another old favorite

3rd may 2007 5.12 am

It’s a beautiful midsummer night.
And like all things beautiful, it’s dying.

I look up at the sky ….and look about for the moon.
There it is! just behind the branches of that neem tree.
It’s a dull bronzed red now. That’s Interesting … and Very out of character. Especially considering that it was a happy golden milky round thing just half an hour back.
Hmm ..
I vaguely wonder if I’ve mistaken the sun for the moon.
Nah . Can’t be.
Its on the wrong side of the sky for one. Or Wait. Is it? ..

Okay. Maybe deciding to reverse my sleep cycle completely wasn’t such a good idea. Even the endless cups of coffee aren’t helping the disorientation.
But that’s not why I have the coffee anyways. At least not anymore.
The love affair with the coffee is a far more serious issue.. that one’s called Addiction.

My theory is that everyone’s a slave to Something if you think about it. For some people its Alcohol … Narcotics for some.. then there’s nicotine .. caffeine .. food ..love .. religion .. why even sex ..
Its part of the Great human weakness that you have to serve something ..be it good or bad … otherwise you’ll go mad...So it is the constant we all crave in our lives.
And the form I chose to give to it is a mug of espresso.
which brings us back to… how coffee isn’t working for me anymore .I’m thinking its time for me to move on.
Move onto what?
the love , food , alcohol and other options are either currently unavailable or inappropriate ..
and after not much deliberation I rummage about in the dark for the pack I’d stashed in my room. And my hands chance upon the small cardpaper box.

I take out a cigarette from it, light it and take a drag .. and watch as the tip glows eerily.
The smoke feels thick and vaguely warm going down my throat.. unlike the smooth , hot feel of coffee, I couldn’t help noticing.
And the nicotine goes up and lands a solid kick in my brain .. an odd feeling .. like a bunch of bright lights being turned on in the head .
Again, unlike the gradual, liquid kick coffee offers, like awareness washing over my entire thought process ..
Exhale slowly. And the image of the bronzed red moon shimmers hazily through the cloud of smoke... and suddenly I have this weird mental picture of smoke creeping up into my skull , winding its way into my mind , into my thoughts, melting and tweaking them , even singeing some of them.

I’m not sure I really like this .. this choice of addiction.
I glare at the glowing cigarette in my hand. Maybe it’s the insomnia making me hallucinate and I’m over-reacting. So I decide to give it another chance and take a few more drags … and the feeling of dissatisfaction only intensifies.
I glare at the cigarette harder.
I never really had a problem smoking before. What is it now?
I wonder..

The sky is lighting up slowly… tufts of pink-orange clouds float into the scene .. and in the mellow pre dawn light , I see it , a crushed coffee cup .. and I look at the half-burnt cigarette in my hand .. both of them reminders of my pathetic self-control. Reminders of how weak and dependant I was. And I knew I couldn’t do it anymore .. I realize I’m getting sick of this. This lack of control and self-respect .. the way some ground beans and rolled up tobacco can take control of your life and make you dance to its every beck and call. I see the huge unsaid catch in my theory of addiction.. the catch is that if I’ll go slightly mad without something to serve , I’ll go stark, raving mad because of what I’m serving too. I’ll want, no, Need to be in the throes of the addiction all the time. And if I’m not , the pain of withdrawal will eat at me till I eventually give up any pretence of resistance and crawl back into that place. That sad sad place.

And what I have to do is suddenly very clear to me.

I hurriedly stub the half-burnt cigarette out. Glowing bits of ash fall , jump about and get swept away by a gentle breeze before they die out.

I get up and walk away..

…to the coffee machine.

Who was I kidding ….