There was a kid across the street who didn’t wake up one day. He was the son of my pop’s friend, but was not my friend, and really nothing more than just that kid across the street. I remember his dad had these red eyes, like he’d been scratching at them all day. I don’t even remember an ambulance or anything. I don’t think I saw him but once like that.

I asked my pop, “¿Porque llora?”

“Su hijo murio. Se fue a dormir y no se levanto.”

“Como?”, because never waking up was impossible. People slept and people woke up. This is the system we followed.

“Tenia problemas con respiracion.”

I let out one deep breath and took in a bigger one. It seemed simple enough. There must have been something broken with his breathing tubes. Maybe something entered his mouth and choked him, like a ball or an animal. Later, when I found out that sometimes my breathing tubes are also broken, I thought back to never waking up. I knew I didn’t have anything inside me. I was just a little wrong in some places and that meant I could sleep and never wake up again, just like that kid.

I had inhalers. I used vapor rub. I avoided the things that choked me until time cured me of most of their effects.

And there were some nights, like tonight, when I didn’t sleep at all.