better hours

"I think I've got the hang of this now."
Been staring at a leaking faucet for about twenty minutes. Each drop of water hits an overflowing pan and joins its fellow bretheren. I haven't been able to sleep for the past two months. I catch little pieces here and there but outside of the occasional crash every three days, I'm left completely jittery and on edge.
It's 3 in the morning and everybody is waking up. My father, my grandmother, even my 10 year old brother is walking around right now.
"You haven't gone to bed yet," he says.
"No. What are you doing up?"
"I can't sleep."
Oh.
Don't stick around here too long kid, I think I'm catching.
My father walks in to the room and grabs his neon BFI clothes so he can go to work. I can hear the comment before he makes it.
"Kid, you gotta staht keeping bettah hours."
No shit?
"Ya stay up all night, ya gonna probaly sleep all day, I mean, what tha fahk?"
I resist the urge to reason with him. He's on his way to throw trash for 10 hours. There's no way that I could look anything but lazy to him right now.
He gets dressed and heads out the door. I turn back to the faucet and imagine myself diving off a hundred foot cliff into a pitch black ocean. Falling too fast to know what to do and exploding right before I hit the water. I think about my blood mingling with the white foam on the tips of the waves and what kind of fish would be eating me. I resist the urge to start playing in the sink.
My grandmother heads back upstairs while my brother pours a glass of milk. He comes over and sits at the kitchen table with me. He looks spent.
"What have you been doing this whole time you've been up," he asks.
"Uh...watching TV. What about you?"
"I just couldn't sleep. Dad kept rolling over on top of me and he wouldn't stop snoring his loud snores. It's so annoying."
"In the future you can sleep in my bed if you want. I'll just sleep on the couch so...feel free."
"No that's ok. I miss Dad lately and I wanna hang out with him. Thanks anyway."
"Ok. Whatever you want."
He grabs his milk and walks back upstairs. I start to feel lonely almost instantly. 3 to 5 is dead time no matter what I'm doing. Nothing helps at that time. Not lectures, not sympathy, not empathy, not even the sleepy face of a 10 year old makes me wanna stay up to see the sun rise. Not anymore. Not after 3 day drug binges and 3 day bouts of insomnia that leave me guilt ridden and cold. The sun turns into a cop's flashlight shining in my face, asking me where I'm coming from.
I hate to say it but it's true...
I've ruined the sunrise.
I'm gonna go play in the sink.