My Heartbeat Kept Me Awake

Thud.

There was a time in my life when the sound of my heartbeat kept me awake at night. It wasn’t a thumping sound but rather a series of disruptive thuds.

Whenever I closed my eyes — Thud. The noise pried my eyes open as soon as I shut them. I’d close my eyes again but never make progress towards falling asleep because of the noise. I’d sit there, forced to listen to my heartbeat. Before long, the thuds became rhythmic, and I discerned words and meaning in the rhythm.

Thud. “You’ve accomplished nothing,” the noise told me.

Thud. “You’ll never amount to anything,” it said.

My heart formed a screeching cacophony of other jeers and insults — one for each beat.

Some nights were worse than others, but there was one that was particularly terrible. I didn’t sleep at all.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

With each beat of my heart came a torrent of emotions. My heartbeat reminded me that I was alive, that I had problems, and that I was suffering. Sleeping facedown made things worse. I could feel my heartbeat reverberate throughout the mattress.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Finally, I turned onto my back. But I it didn’t help.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

I dug my nails into my scalp and screamed; screams were the only thing that could drown out the noise of my heartbeat.

“If only I could be a corpse,” I thought. “A corpse can sleep through anything.”

That’s when an idea struck me. I turned onto my back again. My heart continued to send shocks through my body, but I had a way to stop it.

I folded my arms like a corpse and shut my eyes. The thuds began to quiet. I could still hear the noise, and feel the vibrations, though. So I forced my limbs to be rigid — as if rigor mortis had claimed my muscles. The thuds grew dimmer. They were whispers now, but still present. My mind was doing its best to make my body a corpse, but my heart refused to play along. Yet I persisted.

I imagined that I was dying — that I had a bag over my head, that I had a terminal illness, anything — and that these breaths I was taking were my last.

One deep breath. Heartbeat.

A second deep breath. Heartbeat.

A third deep breath. Darkness. Silence. Death.

That night I dreamt about how wondrous a corpse’s life must be. Nothing can disturb a corpse. A corpse isn’t plagued with doubts and psychological baggage. A corpse doesn’t have to pay bills. A corpse doesn’t know betrayal. A corpse is free.

But most importantly, a corpse doesn’t have a heartbeat — that ineffaceable, shrieking parade of thuds that reminds you that you’re alive.