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To B Or Not To Be?

Why is it that sleep eludes us when we need it the most?

Tomorrow marks one of the most important days of my adulthood. Potentially life-altering, or so I hope. Short of popping tranquilizers like mint pellets, I am destined to face it unrested.

My tryst with performance anxiety can be traced back to my college days. These were the days of going to bed at 1AM and waking up two hours later to cram as much as humanly possible. This lifestyle was new to me - I was accustomed to nine hours of sleep and feeling prepared a week ahead of any evaluation. So, in order to wake myself up, I used to blast music on my earphones, usually hardcore Bollywood or Punjabi; you know the type - loud and explosive - and dance my heart out. I mean, till-your-feet-swell-up dance. A good half hour later, with labored breath and a clear head, I'd hit the books.

The music isn't helping today.

Time might wait for none, but can I pretty-please it into fast forwarding?

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Grateful and more, yes, but fuck my life.


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