The other night, I found myself up too late once again.
This seems to happen endlessly. There is always just one more reason to stay awake a little longer, one more small justification that somehow feels important in the moment. On this occasion, I finally gave up on productivity and wrote down my frustration instead.
また起きている遅すぎるいつになったら学ぶのか 天上火
mata okiteiru ososugiru itsu ni nattara manabu no ka[1]
Up again
Way too late
Will I ever learn?
—Tenjōka[2]
I know it’s not just me; it’s a human habit.
We know we should go to bed. We know that a proper night’s sleep will make tomorrow easier. We know that staying up rarely produces anything useful — just yawns, nodding off, and the quiet avoidance of what our body is asking for.
And yet we do it anyway.
Humans are nothing if not hopeful, sometimes delusionally so. We tell ourselves that maybe this time will be different. Maybe this extra hour will matter. Maybe something will finally click.
But maybe never is the honest answer, and the pattern stays the same.
Ah well. At least in my case, I got a haiku out of it. That counts for something.