You know how when you wake up, you have the feeling 'Hey, it's a new day, a fresh start', and you approach things with energy restored. Not that I've ever thought much about insomnia, but googling E.M. Cioran after reading this column, I came across a thought of his about how insomnia changes all that:
So, instead of starting a new life, at eight in the morning you're like you were at eight the evening before. The nightmare continues uninterrupted in a way, and in the morning, start what? Since there's no difference from the night before. That new life doesn't exist. The whole day is a trial, it's the continuity of the trial.
The tale that follows this, about Cioran and his mother, is also not the cheeriest.