When I could not fall asleep

I kept my eyes open in the dark, Friday night, with nothing in mind but the time on my hands. How could I spend this night if it were to be my last? Cooped up in the warmth of covers delight, counting  stars and everything my eyes could make out in that weary dark. I could not read. I could not fall asleep. I could not pretend I was not too far from home. Falling asleep would have been the greatest escape to a mind that was numb from the pains of the day, the hurdles of the insane, the aimless gaze to the sky hoping that heaven would open up.  A fruitless wait. I tried to make them count, the last few minutes of my laying awake in the dark, making a mental note of the hours I would spend awake the next day but coming up blank. I had hit the wall of no return and one by one I could make out the sheep I had learnt to count in the distant past – 95, 94, 93, 92….. – on and on and on, until darkness covered my eyes.

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