Arnold was always so able to sleep. In all our years of dating, it seemed he was capable of sleeping through most everything- thunderstorms, police sirens, alley cats causing mischief, Oskar Kokashka's seemingly impenetrable snoring. The kid was gifted in more ways than one and sleeping seemed to be another of his talents; the ability to sleep so soundly and like an angel was just another gift on the long-ending list of things I'd found perfect about Arnold.

Me on the other hand, well, I was quite the opposite.

Tossing and turning, getting up and getting back down; these were my habits long before being with Arnold ever occurred—a curse I'd never been able to shut down, or rather, it was my body that wasn't able to shut completely down.

You see, growing up in the Pataki residence took a certain resilience that isn't taught in schools or even necessarily on the streets. Growing up in the Pataki house, one had to have the ability NOT to sleep, and that wasn't just some joke.

Fighting, glass breaking, condescending tones and dysfunction seemed to plague my family and it was these traits that make many things capable of going 'bump' in the night. Most nights were littered with these things—a few slander words from Bob and some tearful cries of Miriam added for flavor, the sound of another picture frame slamming into the wall to break into a million shattered pieces, Bob's mighty-as-an-ox phrases that only made the matters worse and then repeat. They were all things it had taken me years to get used to and now only haunted me as I lay peacefully beside Arnold in his bed; his house calmer than my own and thus, somehow, more eerie and hard to put up with such silence.

It was 5am. The light was still in captive of the dark night and I could stare up at the lessend-light of the stars from the big city for hours where I lay.

In fact, I HAD been staring at them for nearly an hour now- since 4am when I woke up bright and early for my day.

It wasn't that I was excited to go to my job, oh GOD no. I hated that place. No, it seemed that the thoughts in my brain just couldn't relax long enough for a good night's sleep. Each morning I woke up like this; my eyes wide with alert in the dark of the night, willing for me to get up though everyone else was sleeping.

There were a few things I did on occasions as such; a few things I did to either fall into relaxation or keep me occupied while the rest of the world woke up with me in its own due timing. Firstly, I'd get some water. There was nothing like waking up in the morning to wander around in the dark and find some ice-cold water to calm me down. Lucky for me, Arnold had a brand new mini-fridge stock-piled with waters so I usually stumbled out of bed to find a bottle to suck down and then decide my next move.

Next, I'd usually toss on a sweatshirt from Arnold's closet or floor, then climb up the ladder to sit outside the window and smoke a cigarette. Sure, it's a filthy habit but I hadn't quite got onto the whole 'quitting' thing yet and while I knew the time for that was approaching, I wasn't about to let my bad habit go just yet.

After that, I'd climb back in and usually try to go back to sleep without much luck. It was a toss here and a turn there and after roughly 10 minutes of trying every position known to man, I found myself getting up once more in hunt of the bathroom- an insomniac's small home during the off-hours.

In there, I sat with bright lights shining onto me. It was there I'd either use the facilities or use them for light to check my phone for a solid hour or half hour.

Leaving the room, my next stop was back up to Arnold's room; then climbing into bed and starting the cycle all over again until my next routine stop down to allergy train.

I'd sneeze. And I'd sneeze. I'd sneeze all while blowing my nose in between to try and clear my sinuses which were wide awake no matter who else was. Thankfully, Arnold could sleep through an entire train collision so I was pretty safe no matter how many blows I had to make to stop my over-active nose from destroying the silence of good sleep.

If I made it this far into my routine, I was usually onto writing for the remainder of my time in the lonely hours of 4-7am. It seemed my creativity woke up with me most mornings and it was then that I was able to get much of my writing done for the constant stories I was cooking up for either my writing classes or pure entertainment factor.

This was my life. A constant nightly battle with that of sleep.

I just wondered how long it would take until that ritual could be overcome by pure, blissful and unadulterated sleep.

As i'm sure most people figured out, this is totally me when it comes to sleeping and Arnold is totally my partner when she sleeps. this idea came to me at about 5am so enjoy my first headcanon!