I'm going to be honest with you. Our family's always been sort of messed up in terms of sleep. There's no schedule that anyone adheres to, and even after my dad tells us all to finally go up, everyone has their own routines and doings that take up their own time and there's no one time that I can guarantee that all of us will be fast asleep.
Take that, thieves.
I'm sure that's one of the reasons they haven't tried anything despite the large tree that conveniently leads right outside my window. They're scared that they'll enter my house and find my sister eating spaghetti or something.
I don't know what's happening at four a.m.
I myself spend weeknights up until 2-3 a.m. Unlike my siblings, I actually have a genuine reason for staying up so late. I study and finish my homework for school.
My brother's in his room on his phone. I know he's on his phone because he doesn't actually use headphones. It doesn't actually make any sense because he has headphones and they're functional. In fact, he uses them on his laptop every single day of his life. It's only at night that he feels is the perfect time to blast audio, when everyone's in bed trying to sleep. I feel like that's his way of protesting. Let me know if you have any sort of idea about what he might be protesting. Help a sister out.
My sister who's thirteen finds sleep unappealing. She lays there for God knows how many hours. Nobody is available to entertain her at that time, so she often stares at me while I do my homework. It's absolutely terrifying to rest your head for a minute and open them to see eyes staring at you. I try telling her that she has it great and to take advantage of her opportunities because when I was thirteen, no one told me to appreciate sleep as it was.
She still resumes the staring, so I'm not sure she got the message. I'm counting on fate to teach her a lesson.
When you're younger, I get it. Sleep is for the weak. It's boring, it takes forever, on and on. When you're older, however, you praise God for inventing something like sleep. A time where it's acceptable to knock out of the world. Imagine if we didn't have the need to sleep. We'd just be awake twenty-four seven, and life for robbers would be a lot more difficult. I can just imagine one trying to pop in through my window in broad daylight. Even if I wouldn't be there, my sister would probably be, eating a bowl of spaghetti with a look of blank, pure boredom.
Sometime in February, this actually became a problem. My brother left for college like he usually does on Mondays. He comes home late because he decided evening classes were cool. (In reality, evening classes mean that you don't come home before seven, eight p.m. My dad picks him up on Mondays, so that means coming home even later. Anyways. It's not like he minds, so. There's no room for pity here. That comes later.)
My dad called to say that my brother hadn't come to the car that day. Normally he's late, so we were like, "ok, just wait some more." But after waiting a good forty-five minutes, people start to worry. Even unemotional, unattached people who don't hug their siblings.
I'm talking about me running around making phone calls that aren't getting picked up. I'm talking looking at his last snapchat update. I even went so far as to contact his friend.
I don't know my brother's friends, okay. This isn't a normal sibling relationship. He may know the names of some of my friends, but I haven't an inkling about who he hangs out with. My parents presumably do, so I'm okay with not knowing who his waking hours are spent with.
What this meant was scouring the people he follows on Instagram for some sort of familiar name. Now, trying to distinguish a friend from someone's following list on Instagram is a terrible way of going about it. For one, half of them are people who are friends of your friends, which basically means you forget they exist until they post. But I was the only link in my family who had a sort of a connection to his friends because for some reason we don't have even one of his friend's numbers.
I ended up finding some random dude who my mom then sent a message too. Poor dude, honestly.
He replied later on that he didn't know.
By that time, I had scoured up the number for the college's Lost People number. My brother wasn't answering his calls, my dad had walked the streets of the university, and went to the nearby buildings to ask if they had seen him. The whole evening in the house became a fluster of panic, crying people because it's college and college is a dangerous place and it's like, nine p.m.
I had just sent my dad the Lost People number when my dad texts us to say my brother had finally come in contact. Guess where this genius had been "missing" for a good two hours?
Dead asleep, in the campus library.
Now, everyone started crying again, because it was just something innocent like sleeping. I, on the other hand, was like of course he was sleeping! of course!!
God. It was a stressful day for everyone.
Except him.
Take that, thieves.
I'm sure that's one of the reasons they haven't tried anything despite the large tree that conveniently leads right outside my window. They're scared that they'll enter my house and find my sister eating spaghetti or something.
I don't know what's happening at four a.m.
I myself spend weeknights up until 2-3 a.m. Unlike my siblings, I actually have a genuine reason for staying up so late. I study and finish my homework for school.
My brother's in his room on his phone. I know he's on his phone because he doesn't actually use headphones. It doesn't actually make any sense because he has headphones and they're functional. In fact, he uses them on his laptop every single day of his life. It's only at night that he feels is the perfect time to blast audio, when everyone's in bed trying to sleep. I feel like that's his way of protesting. Let me know if you have any sort of idea about what he might be protesting. Help a sister out.
My sister who's thirteen finds sleep unappealing. She lays there for God knows how many hours. Nobody is available to entertain her at that time, so she often stares at me while I do my homework. It's absolutely terrifying to rest your head for a minute and open them to see eyes staring at you. I try telling her that she has it great and to take advantage of her opportunities because when I was thirteen, no one told me to appreciate sleep as it was.
She still resumes the staring, so I'm not sure she got the message. I'm counting on fate to teach her a lesson.
When you're younger, I get it. Sleep is for the weak. It's boring, it takes forever, on and on. When you're older, however, you praise God for inventing something like sleep. A time where it's acceptable to knock out of the world. Imagine if we didn't have the need to sleep. We'd just be awake twenty-four seven, and life for robbers would be a lot more difficult. I can just imagine one trying to pop in through my window in broad daylight. Even if I wouldn't be there, my sister would probably be, eating a bowl of spaghetti with a look of blank, pure boredom.
Sometime in February, this actually became a problem. My brother left for college like he usually does on Mondays. He comes home late because he decided evening classes were cool. (In reality, evening classes mean that you don't come home before seven, eight p.m. My dad picks him up on Mondays, so that means coming home even later. Anyways. It's not like he minds, so. There's no room for pity here. That comes later.)
My dad called to say that my brother hadn't come to the car that day. Normally he's late, so we were like, "ok, just wait some more." But after waiting a good forty-five minutes, people start to worry. Even unemotional, unattached people who don't hug their siblings.
I'm talking about me running around making phone calls that aren't getting picked up. I'm talking looking at his last snapchat update. I even went so far as to contact his friend.
I don't know my brother's friends, okay. This isn't a normal sibling relationship. He may know the names of some of my friends, but I haven't an inkling about who he hangs out with. My parents presumably do, so I'm okay with not knowing who his waking hours are spent with.
What this meant was scouring the people he follows on Instagram for some sort of familiar name. Now, trying to distinguish a friend from someone's following list on Instagram is a terrible way of going about it. For one, half of them are people who are friends of your friends, which basically means you forget they exist until they post. But I was the only link in my family who had a sort of a connection to his friends because for some reason we don't have even one of his friend's numbers.
I ended up finding some random dude who my mom then sent a message too. Poor dude, honestly.
He replied later on that he didn't know.
By that time, I had scoured up the number for the college's Lost People number. My brother wasn't answering his calls, my dad had walked the streets of the university, and went to the nearby buildings to ask if they had seen him. The whole evening in the house became a fluster of panic, crying people because it's college and college is a dangerous place and it's like, nine p.m.
I had just sent my dad the Lost People number when my dad texts us to say my brother had finally come in contact. Guess where this genius had been "missing" for a good two hours?
Dead asleep, in the campus library.
Now, everyone started crying again, because it was just something innocent like sleeping. I, on the other hand, was like of course he was sleeping! of course!!
God. It was a stressful day for everyone.
Except him.
