The Bloody Doors Off

Two days.

Two days in a row.

I’ve woken up.

At 5 am.

Makes no sense.

Hell I woke up before five this morning. But managed to get a little extra sleep.

And I take half a sleeping pill at night to knock me out.

I’ve always been an insomniac.

A decade working the midnight shift at an investment banking firm will do that for you.

Even earned the nickname “Doctor Midnight” at the office, I was so productive.

I’m working for some of those same people now, on contract.

They now call me “Doctor Dusk” because I won’t work past sunset.

If I can help it.

Those kind of hours can fuck with you.

I missed family get togethers because I had to sleep late into the day on Sunday to go into the office that night.

Dating was a sunovabitch. “Sorry I have to go, now. Work.” I wonder if they thought I was lying.

It didn’t destroy the one long-term relationship I had (with Suzi), but it didn’t help matters.

Hell, there was a moment we nearly got back together a few years after. But I, idiot that I was, chose to go into work instead of spending the night with her.

Before I was diagnosed as depressed, there were nights where everything felt black.

Despite the stars in the sky, the moon illuminating the landscape.

Everything was pitch black to me.

Getting off the midnight shift was the best thing I did, back then.

I think that was around 2005.

‘Cuz 2007 was the year shit hit the fan.