As early as I remember, I was afraid to go to sleep.
This began when I was six.
My Uncle Lenny went off to Vietnam.
And that opened up this chapter in my life where I was obsessed with death.
I was scared that Uncle Lenny was going to be killed,
but more than that, his absence underscored the fact that someday,
no matter what, I was going to be drafted, and I'd have to go to Vietnam, and I'd be killed.
And there was nothing that I or anybody I knew could do to stop that.
I knew I was going to be killed because I was chubby and I was terrible at sports.
I could barely run half a block.
On TV, war seemed to involve a lot of running.
There was crouching, there was shooting, but there was a disturbing amount of running.
So I was six, and I knew I was going to die, and my mom and dad couldn't help me.
Nobody could help me.
I'd be dead forever.
Galaxies would spin, humans would travel to other worlds, and I would miss all of that.
Nobody would remember me or anybody that I had ever known.
Forever.
And I got awake at night, scared to fall asleep.
Because sleep seemed no different than death.