The Virtues of Sleep Deprivation

Eighty-eight hours now. 88! It's almost been eighty-eight hours without sleep. I don't know why or how I do it, but something wills me to stay awake. Strike that, something wills me to not sleep. My body wants sleep. Head feels heavy, eyesight is blurry, hazy. My brain feels swollen. It is swollen and begs to be itched. It begs to be shut down. I say no. It asks again, politely. I say "No, you must stay on." It asks why. I say, "because, otherwise we might miss something."
"Like what?" my brain responds.
"Like what," I say with all the confidence of a grade-A snake oil salesman "like, lots of things. I don't have to explain myself to you."
I think my display of righteous indignation may have upset my brain. In an act of unwarranted retaliation, my head began to throb. I refuse to give in. I refuse to go to sleep. There's still something I need to do, something I have to get done before I pass out. I don't know what it is.

My body requires rest. My head requires rest. But my soul wills me to stay awake. It wills me to retaliate against my brain. I say no. My soul punches me in the face. I don't mind the pain and I hesitate for a solid ten minutes before I get up for a paper towel to stop the bleeding. There was never any need for a premature paper towel. I enjoy the blood. The blood dripping down the side of my cheek feels warm, like a crimson colored satin blanket on a hearty Christmas Eve.
Failing to get my attention with a solid right hook to the face, my soul punches me in the stomach. Doubled over in pain, I smile and laugh through my tears. My soul is confused and leaves the room.

Only my body and mind left... and me of course. The place feels bigger, emptier, yet Without my soul I feel suffocated, delirious and most certainly on the brink. However confused or angry it may be, it is still my soul, a human soul... and therefore a soul worth saving.