There's a sort of serenity that comes with knowing you won't possibly get enough sleep to be awake the next day. It must be akin to watching a train cross the last 30 yards to the point where you're standing. The doom isn't nearly as long-lasting, surely, but it is a species of doom nonetheless.

Jumping when people talk around you. Starting to read, and realizing your eyes are closed.

And you're just staring that train down.

Here's where it gets interesting, though: You can step out of the way of both of them. If you have the presence of mind to, you can just walk off of the tracks, and the train will do you no harm. You're perfectly capable of going to bed whenever.

Here's where it starts to get depressing: You make yourself stay up. You know you'll be no use the next day, but you need to do something for someone you don't really know. You don't want to do it, you don't think it's worthwhile, it certainly doesn't help anyone, and it's keeping you up, but you're going to do it. You're wasting your life, because someone told you to.

You're wasting your life.