The Antidote by Oliver Burkeman
8 min in bed, 1.14.13
It is one o’clock in the morning and I am wide awake. I am seven years old and I cannot sleep. I am a very new seven because my birthday was just three weeks ago, but someone once told my mom I had a very old soul. That’s something that lives inside with your heart and your stomach and your bones. They couldn’t really describe it but that’s the gist I got.
I have been awake ever since they shut the door on me at eight thirty. He just told my mom to come to bed because it’s one o’clock in the morning. That’s how come I know the time. I’ve been waiting a long time to finish my work. But I am ready. They never believe me that I’m not tired and I have stuff to do. I didn’t finish setting the monster traps. How can I sleep?
I roared my angry tiger roar in protest at the stupid ritual of brushing and flossing. Danny already told me these teeth are all going to fall out anyway. Mom gave me the ugly mommy look so I didn’t finish the full roar. As soon as I hear their door close, I’m going to whisper a warning roar and finish putting out the monster bait around my bed.
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