The trouble with not sleeping well is that there is no border between yesterday and today and thus, no defining wall which would allow us to believe that yes, that was yesterday's bit of insanity, today we can begin again.
I am quite aware of the fact that no day really ends and no day really begins (time is possibly more like a river than what is portrayed on the calendar) but sleep surely does give that lie the nod, that illusion, the embroidered stitches which help us to define it to ourselves. And if sleep is chopped up and taken in drips and drabs here and there throughout the night, we feel that we have passed into another day without the reward of unconsciousness which we need so desperately to accept that illusion of Tomorrow being Another Day.
No. Tomorrow is not another day, tomorrow is four o'clock in the morning when we are rusty-eyed and not capable of appreciating much about The New Day and would cheerfully shoot Annie as she sings from the stage, her red hair quivering with the emotion in her song about Tomorrow, Tomorrow, I love you, Tomorrow, You're Always a day away! and her little dog Sandy, too.
If you do not sleep well, there is never a tomorrow, but only the same day with the same worries and same crazies, never-ending, never that time to clear away the cobwebs, no knitting up the raveled sleeve of care.
What the fuck are you gonna do? Drink your smoothie with mango and pineapple and fresh blueberries, put on your walking clothes and lace up your shoes, get on with it before this day becomes so hot you can't make it home without puking. You're going to pretend that today is a new day. You're going to just presume that it is, no matter how you feel about it.
What else can you do?
For one thing, quit reading the dystopian stories in the New Yorker at three in the morning.
Here I go, it is today, tomorrow will be also. I'm swimming past that tree right there and tomorrow I'll be floating past that tree down there or crossing a day off the calendar or something...something.
Whatever and either way, there is only jumping in over and over and over again and that's what we do, and we do what we can and maybe there will be a tonight when we sleep it all through and done.