I have an awful attitude when it comes to sleep. Notably, I despise the idea of it. Given that most human beings require around eight hours of it a night, that eats up a third of one's life - that's right, a third of your life is spent in bed, and not in the good way! Some people love sleeping, and would do it all day if they could. Some do, and consider it to be a form of consciousness where they walk about on autopilot all day.
As for myself, sleeping seems like a waste of perfectly valuable time. Nothing is accomplished, one is extraordinarily vulnerable to outside threats, and one does not stop aging. Given this, why the hell do we do it, outside of it being a biological need? I would much rather get my refresh from something that didn't suck up eight hours of my time, thanks. Maybe I could create some sort of instant-refresh machine, kind of like a checkpoint in most video games. Need to rest? Just pop into the AutoRefresh 2000 and suddenly you're good as new; you just slept eight hours in two seconds.
Some of this attitude comes from my light insomnia. There are nights where I can't get to sleep, and it's infuriating every time. So I may or may not have consciously decided that sleep is the devil as a way to cope with the fact that I can't have it all the time. But this would more likely explain a desire to sleep as opposed to a desire to avoid it! Since I've yet to meet anyone who feels the same as I do about sleep, the only logical conclusion is that I am a superior breed of human being whose focus is on productivity and efficiency (and who is mysteriously lagged down by modern society's lackadaisical lifestyle).
The time I spend sleeping could be spent reading, writing, or steadily losing my mind. Eight hours of self betterment down the drain, and why? Because my body seems to think it needs to rest, recharge, and clear things out. What really sucks is that when I try to take that time to read and write, only half gets absorbed because of exhaustion. Truly, the war I wage is a losing one. Hell, even now I fear I'm rambling on due to my heavy eyelids.
I should give up and go to bed, but I don't want to. That siren can take her call and choke on it, because I'm not buying her product. I don't want her fluffy sheets nor her gentle caress. I don't want the wacky, often far-too-realistic dreams I end up having. I want to spend my time doing something that will either enrich me or make me rich. Maybe enrich a rich guy named Rich. See what I mean about not making sense?
You know what? Sleep should be a privilege. If you don't exercise or use your brain for more than breathing, you don't get to sleep! After all, if you're just running on autopilot, it's not as though you are giving your brain much of a work out. Instead, you're giving it a bag of Doritos, the remote, and a copy of the TV Guide. That thing's doing nothing but crying over Lifetime movies. You know, the one with the girl and the husband who beats her, but she gets better and becomes strong only to find true love?
I think I just accidentally spoiled every Lifetime movie past, present, and future. You're welcome, now go read a fucking book.
