In 2016, 4AM became a close friend. I’d awake with no provocation, roll over to check my phone, and mutter a string of my favorite swears. My insomnia was as reliable as it was frustrating, but it was unusual for me, too. All my life, I’d bragged about my ability to fall into a deep, coma-like state wherever, whenever, rivaled only by the dead. These sleepless weeks stretched into months. …