When death some day comes to me, as it comes to us all, I’d like to think I’ll go into that dark night with grace and good humor. But actually, I’ll probably handle it really poorly, clinging to the ventilator and the bed pan until my relatives and friends murmur among themselves that I probably would have signed that living will if I’d known that my final days would involve an hourly alternation of hysteric sobs and recitations of Wilson Phillips lyrics.

That’s the main reason I hate sleep: it’s too much like death.

Granted, I’ve never personally experienced death—but I’ve experienced not being alive, and it was awful. Up until I was born, I missed everything. Think of all those thousands of years of amazing parties and hilarious pratfalls! I didn’t even know what I was missing. And after I’m gone for good, it’ll be thousands of years more of the same. Shit!

See? That’s just what sleep is like. When you’re asleep, stuff happens all around you and you’re totally oblivious—unless it wakes you up, and then you’re not asleep any more. Meanwhile, the countdown to your eternal sleep continues. Why would you want to waste those precious moments of consciousness?

I know that biologically, we need sleep. Some sleep. But there’s a big grey area between having so little sleep that you go clinically insane and getting the maximum possible amount of sleep; in that grey area, I prefer to ride it as close to the sleepless edge as possible. Caffeine? Yes, please! Late-night activities? Count me in! I’d be awake reading anyhow. Early morning breakfast? That’s what I’ve got this convenient nook for!

Also, sleep is just kind of awkward—like death. You’re not decomposing, true, but you’re drooling and making weird noises and getting yourself into a whole morning-breath situation. Who wants that? Bodies are just not meant to be lying prone and immobile: your nose plugs up, your limbs fall asleep, your eyes get fuzzy. It’s grim.

If I could stay awake for 100% of my life, that would be ideal. That’s not possible, so I stay awake each night until I can’t keep my eyes open, and gladly wake up again at the slightest provocation. It’s nice to feel well-rested, but sleep itself is seriously inconvenient—and it kind of freaks me out.

– Jay Gabler