Sleeplessness. For some, it is the greatest truth… the greatest quest. It is the first cause of the dreaminess that emerges in the dark. One begins with it, and ends with it. It is the greatest love a person can possess. One grows weary of the nothingness of night, yet still longs to possess it with one’s whole being. It lends new meaning to the glances cast toward the ceiling. One wants to cut loose from everyone one knows—to slip free of the world’s ceaseless flow within the silence of one’s sleeplessness.
One looks outside from behind the curtain. One greets the streetlights that brighten the darkness. They are the only companions. Hasn’t everything begun from nothing anyway? Deep down one knows that everything was once born in darkness. It is like the sense of safety inside a cave, or the peace felt while it rains. One is dependent on sleeplessness.
At a sound, one startles. At the first light appearing… at a rooster’s crow. With daylight’s arrival, everything has burned away before the first spark even shows. With people’s endless bustle, all bustle is already ended. As the voices rise, one no longer knows what to do. Even the smoke of one’s cigarette blurs in the day…
The time has come to face the greatest fear. One gets into bed. Closes one’s eyes and greets it again. Yet one cannot escape the hazy world within one’s thoughts. One thinks. One reconstructs all that has been lived. One tries to reorder the words that once left one’s mouth, tries to soothe oneself with events that never were.
There is a moment when one is certain one will never possess happiness—when all that darkness, all that sorrow, all of it comes to an end. One has, in truth, awakened… only so far as sleeplessness.
soli 
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