3:45 am

3:45 am. I wake up. Again. It’s been a while I don’t know what’s to have a full night’s sleep. And always at around the same time. “Shit. I have to get up in two hours”.

People say if you can’t sleep it’s ‘cause somebody’s dreaming of you. Haha. I don’t think so.

Exhaustion. Pain. PMS. Sleep deprivation. They make you see things. But they don’t tell you what’s real and what’s not.

“What’s wrong?”, you might ask. That’s what people’ve been asking, actually. I sadly, yet honestly, do not have the slightest clue of the answer to that.

“So, what did you do on the weekend?”. “Well, on Saturday, at night, I went to a hospital. The doctor told me I need to slow down, and rest more. As the last one said. So I had to ask him if he was hiring, haha. Then they gave me intravenous medication, but it didn’t really go away”. I got a souvenir, though; I still have the usual bruise the needles leave me, as if I gave myself a lame hickey. And I still have these weird pains.

“I have a headache in my chest”. And every where else. My back hurts. My chest hurts. These pains make me tense, so my shoulders, my neck and my head hurt. The lack of rest and sleep make everything worse, so now I have a sore throat, and my cheek bones hurt as well.

In some moments they are more intense. Like now; I just laid down, after a busy day. My back and my feet are killing me, and I feel my knees and my arms terribly weak.

And so I think: “What is it? Is it my fault? What am I doing? And why?!”.

Wednesday morning, I’m soaking wet, and the doctor calls my name. He’s so adorably old… it makes me feel bad, ‘cause I can’t understand a single word he says. Awkward…

X-rays are done. “Forget about what they told you before. You don’t need those drugs. You need physical therapy. Stretch a little, and you’ll be fine”.

But I won’t. ‘cause I (humbly) KNOW that’s not it. At least not all of it. As I walk to the bus stop the tears–of sadness and rage – drop with the rain, and I beg for my bed and some dry socks.

Three doctors in less than a week. “Oh, she’s coming. Pick a disease and tell her. She won’t notice”. The aches and discomfort can blur my vision, but I’m not blind.

“How are you?”. “I’m okay”.

But  I’m not. I’m such a liar. I don’t even know what’s the problem. Or problems. But I do know something’s not “okay”.

I guess I should just go to sleep… That’s probably the best thing I can do now.


*    *   *


I reluctantly open my eyes. Look for the cell phone. It’s 3:45 am.



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