you’re lying there, eyes wide open, the clock mocking you as it ticks into the wee hours. You finally give in, reach for that pill bottle, and brace yourself for the consequences. Morning comes, and with it, the aftermath—a groggy wake-up, the fog in your brain so thick you could cut it with a knife. You’re out of sync, out of sorts, and deep down, you know this isn’t right. The side effects aren’t just annoying; they’re a barrier, a hefty price to pay for a few hours of shut-eye. It’s this very ordeal we’re looking to escape—this relentless pursuit of sleep that doesn’t leave us feeling worse off than when we started.