This installment is about the bout of insomnia that made my insomnia legendary, among certain circles.

It’s probably fitting that I only barely remember the episode of insomnia that nearly broke me. It’s always been stress-induced, and only once since then did I have a bout of stress bad enough that it started affecting me. Both of them happened in August. This was 2005.

I was young, fresh out of high school, and stupid. I was living on my own. I was dating a girl I didn’t actually like, but I was so in love with the idea of her that it seemed almost real. She was the type of person who’s always annoyed me: a hard worker with rigid morals. Anything she did, she would do to the utmost. She would go out of her way to make sure that everything is perfect for everthing she could ever do. She was an overachiever, and as such I should have shunned her. Her kind does not appreciate my kind, and the mistrust is mutual.

Nevertheless, I managed to convince myself I was in love with this girl I convinced myself was even remotely similar to me. So when we finally had a final falling out, I was utterly devastated. For what seems like an eternity even in hindsight, I just couldn’t sleep. I might have grabbed an hour or two here and there, when I had exhausted myself utterly, tossing, turning, crying, whatever I was doing. It never lasted long.

I’m sure everyone noticed how badly I was falling apart. My mind was simply not there. My normally quick wit was absent, my normally calm temperament turbulent. And I was always awake these days, obviously. There was really no avoiding me. Fortunately, I was only able to entertain myself with mindless activities, so I didn’t often attempt to engage anyone with anything. And sometimes I even managed to rally my shattered mind for a moment of lucidity. Mostly, I joked about how badly I was sleeping.

It was when I started seeing things I finally gave in and decided to try to sleep. I hung a now-legendary sign on my door warning any intruders that disturbing me would have terrible consequences. I locked myself in my room for three days, emerging only at dire need. I lay on the bed in the blackness of that room and kept my eyes closed.

It was September when I emerged, awake, rested. It was September when I met the beautiful girl who very nearly drove out all memory of that August. Certainly the girl she had driven out never came back into my life. It was a September some years later when I finally said good bye to my exorcist, exactly like friends do when they know they will see one another the next day.