Sleepless but Snackless : A Midnight Rant from the Edge of Tired

It's 2:53 a.m. for the third night in a row.

Not metaphorically. Not exaggerated for dramatic effect. Literally 2:53 a.m., and I’m here, awake, again, with nothing but a ceiling full of shadows and a brain that won’t shut up.

Insomnia is such a ridiculous kind of torture. It doesn’t scream in your face. It just lingers. Whispers. Pokes at your thoughts until they swell with over-analysis, fake arguments, old memories, and new anxieties. And somewhere in that mess, my stomach always tries to stage a coup.

The fridge glows in the dark like it’s calling me. The crackers whisper my name like they know me. Cookies start bargaining like bad exes. "Just one. I’ll make you feel better."

I used to give in. Honestly, sometimes I still do. But more often now, I sit in this uncomfortable quiet and just feel it. That tight restlessness. That itchy skin feeling. That "why am I even alive if I can't sleep or eat cereal in peace" vibe.

But tonight, no, tonight, I don't want to snack my way through it.

I keep thinking about this guy. He drank tea every morning like it was a ritual. Woke up early, on purpose, clear-eyed and steady. Picture-perfect health, no sugar cravings, no chaos in his body. I admired that a lot more than I wanted to admit. He made stillness look easy, like his nervous system had never even heard of anxiety.

And here I am, trying to get through the night without wrestling a granola bar. But maybe thinking of him, of that calm energy, is helping. Maybe it’s okay to borrow strength from someone else’s balance while I try to find mine.

So instead, I:

• Sip tea like I’m in a sad indie film

• Breathe like it’s the only thing I have control over

• Stretch like I’m trying to pull the tension out of my bones

• Write this, because screaming into a pillow doesn’t have Wi-Fi

And if you’re out there, staring at your ceiling, tempted to snack your way to sunrise,

I’m with you.

You’re not weak. You’re human. And some nights, being human looks like choosing discomfort over dopamine. Choosing stillness over sugar. Choosing to feel what you’d rather fix.

This is the soft side of screaming.

No snacks. Just honesty.

-Mo

Originally posted: 6/11/25 3:27 AM