I hate not being able to sleep. You lie there, staring at the inside of your own eyelids and waiting, but it seems like morning never comes. Nothing to do but stare at the walls or think about all the stuff you're usually too busy for. Just be alone in the dark and quiet with your thoughts, pondering existence and history.
All that pondering would be easier if it weren't for that air-headed twerp snoring next to me.
