"The Time I Almost Set a World Record" by Jason G

            So, around this time last year, I had done something that science has deemed “too dangerous to attempt and too difficult to prove.” Many currently reading this probably will not allow themselves to believe my story; but I know the truth….

            We begin in the fall of 2013. Students at Etiwanda High School are nearing the final month of the first semester and can hardly wait for winter break. Both hard and hardly working juniors and seniors were exceptionally eager to escape the hullabaloo of the public school system and immerse themselves in full holiday spirit. Christmas, Hanukah, and Kwanzaa were within the students’ sights, and to equally match the excitement brought about by holiday conventions were the majestic mountains of school work. Is it just me or do the amount of essays, projects, and exams seem to increase every single time we near a major holiday? I swear this happens all the time! Call me crazy, but I don’t enjoy spending my holidays working, especially if the work interferes with the time I set aside for family.

            Anyway, I had never received the gift of time management, so I needed all the time I could use. I was a procrastinating sloth whenever it came to matters of school and unfortunately, this year would prove to be no different. I had just finished a tedious World History project and thought I was in the clear. Midway through my sigh of relief (really it was more of a yawn), a friend, who had the same classes as me, gave a warning message about the impending pile of work my teachers were about to assign.

            I think that’s how it started. It began with me working to complete these assignments and only sleeping four to five hours a night. Then it progressed to three to four hours, then two to three, then hour long power naps. Finally I began a life-altering journey. One which has given me a new found love for my mattress and pillows. 

            I don’t have insomnia nor have I ever been diagnosed with FFI, I was just really busy. To be honest, the first two weeks I went without sleep were hardly noticeable, as I had spent the majority of my sophomore year going nights without sleep, but not nearly for as long as I had currently been doing. Weeks three and four went by rather seamless also. Again, to me it was normal. I thought nothing of it at the time because I was incredibly preoccupied with school, work and sports. I began to write logs of how I was feeling, both mentally and physically, just in case.

The final twelve days began to kill me, literally. I couldn’t run in soccer anymore, I was coughing up blood and vomiting during the fitness portions of practice. This sleep deprivation also led to me gaining 10 pounds which really helped reach my “peak fitness” for sports. During football, I couldn’t find a way to manage the flow of my own drool. I must have looked insane in full football attire with a lost look in my eye and saliva pouring from the side of my mouth. My concentration and focus were entirely absent in the classroom. Nose bleeds and severe chest pains were a common thing now. In my own work outs, I’d nearly pass out when preparing to tie my Nike’s. When bending over to reach the lace of my shoe, my entire body would topple over. It would take my 30 minutes to physically put my clothes on because of my, now, defeated motor skills. I couldn’t even remember simplest tasks at my job. For some reason my muscles were always sore and my skin was turning a nasty shade of yellow and my face became increasingly pale. No sleep also led to my immune system started to suck, so I got sick more often. I believe I missed one or two full weeks of school because I was ill. My grades would never fully recover. After the fifth week, the sun rise seemed to lose its charm and beauty. Each time I watched it come up, I grew bitter and hateful because it ment that there was a new day to be dealt with. All of these things fueled my anxiety and depression.

Happiness seemed remote, and it was my fault. Perhaps inconformity and even recklessness was in the design of this zeitgeist. The only things providing me with a minimal amount of comfort were the music plugged into my brain every night (usually Hans Zimmer) along with the wisdom and philosophies of vlogger Ze Frank. I must have replayed “An Invocation for Beginnings” at least a thousand times.

 Both my parents and co-workers thought I was heavily using some type of drug, but I knew better. I actually ruptured and re- ruptured veins in both eyeballs. That was the nastiest part of it all. The mirror showed demon eyes and I was disgusted with myself. I’m just thankful that they popped on a Friday, that way, I had the whole weekend to heal them up before showing my face again on Monday. If my eyes hadn’t healed yet, I walked around campus with my head down and avoided conversation at all cost. I was ashamed. They’re actually still somewhat bloodshot and glossy, even to this day.

“Why am I doing this to myself? This isn’t fun at all. I’m smarter than this” I thought, “at least I hope I am.”

Finals had come and gone and I finally went home to sleep for the first time in 40 days. I decided to do some research on world records. The official record for consecutive hours without sleep is around 264. I shattered that mark threefold. To my dismay, some photographer in Los Angeles claims he holds the record with 968 hours as of 2010. Guinness won’t recognize him because the stunt must be documented but is too risky to be proven. Either way, I’m just happy I got some sleep.