1 2 3 4…. Oh what the heck? This is never going to work. Counting sheep is said to be a good remedy for sleeplessness. But what if you are allergic to any sort of activity,  especially the ones which involve any sort of monotony?  The owl seemed to have got a permanent bout of jetlag, keeping up till the wee hours in the morning and dozing off in between classes. The nocturnal wolf in the nearby room was howling,  probably in frustration of losing some match in FIFA.  But the owl sleeps soundly or doesn’t sleep at all. And such trivial distractions doesn’t affect him.
Thereotically life is supposed to flash before you before you die.  In that case the owl dies agonizingly every night for hours.  Loads of random thoughts and musings,  have beens and would have beens,  mistakes and regrets. One thought leads to another,  leading to a labyrinth of thoughts amalgamated into one long agonizing experience.  You give up in the end,  embraced by the shadow of sleep,  sometimes blank,  sometimes dreamy,  succumbing to the temptation of freedom from such pain. But it is not the end. It marks a new beginning. However hopes and dreams doesn’t always materialize. You rise like the proverbial Phoenix every morning,  hoping this day will be great. The owl hates the day,  but he hates the night as well.
You don’t give up. You live on. Sometimes for your sake, sometimes for the sake of others, but you live on. It seems like an eternity, and you are back to where the zero began. 1 2 3 4…the sheep never works. You ponder,  is there an owl lurking around inside?