late night talking

i have spent a good chunk of the last 7 to 8 years of my life staying awake late into the night. as the number of years elapsed has increased, so has my bedtime.

but it wasn't until the last 3 or so years, when i started to get worried about my sleep habits, reading up on scientific literature on the benefits of a good night's sleep, regulating circadian and ultradian rhythms, maximizing longevity and vitality, lifespan and healthspan. my love for the night hadn't decreased, but my commitment had wavered.

i was being unfaithful to the night by trying to sleep early. every now and then, though, i'd slip and spend the night with the night. it had given me so much. close to everything i'd come to like and cherish about life, i'd learned either talking to my dad while semi-watching tv late into the night (i took after his sleeping routine, which was every bit as suboptimal as mine) or sitting by myself at my study desk, textbook laid down, studying half the time, explaining to myself what i'd just learned another quarter and having imaginary conversations with my idols the rest of the time.

intoxicated in my newfound knowledge on the importance of prioritizing sleep, my pursuit for optimization took over me. i would still continue my affair with the night, albeit sporadically now, but it wasn't the same. the dissatisfaction that comes with the incompleteness derivative of unintentional resentment polluted the shine for the night my eyes once so proudly postured. the night could sense it. it reciprocated. i gave less of myself to night. the night did the same to me.

i had become an apologist for moderation, trading away the path for the goal: the path of unbalanced obsession, that of the forward center of mass, gaining momentum in leaps, not in steps, for the goal of becoming truly excellent, except i was becoming anything but that.

the day treated me well; it kept me comfortable, i thought. but in all honesty, it sterilized the potency of my mind i had once developed with the night.

sitting on a desk i'm not completely supposed to be sitting at, writing this at 5:14 am in the morning with 240 mg of caffeine in my veins, i'm convinced. i'm going back to the night. i've kept it waiting long enough.

it might kill me faster. much faster.

but maybe that's ok.

good night.