Eleven days, that's how many days you can go without seep. 8 benadryl deep. Hoping. Day 4. I feel like a crackhead when my body does this. Who else lives like this on a constant basis? It's 1:30 in the morning. I worked. I did people things. I should be highly exhausted because during the daytime I am. But nope. Wide awake in a state of what I can only imagine meth heads feel like. People pay for this? Gross. I wouldn't wish the absence of sleep on anyone. Reruns of Archer. One continuous cycle of blah.
I've tried tranquility. Meditation. Medication. Drinking. Complete darkness. And yet I constantly come to this place of my brain defeating me. Replaying HoBo Johnson lyrics. Looking up actual facts about life and death and mantras and science, and physics, and beauty, and dreaming without actually being asleep to do it.
Why do I dislike my life so much? It's not all life I dislike, it this feeling of perpetually stuck. In the mud not going anywhere. Why can't I sleep? I need another dimension. The person of wonder in me questions the reality of my doppelganger being an insomniac too. Then I feel sorry for her. Is there more magic here in the stillness of the night than there is in the illusion of day?
Wow, this paragraph is fastidious, my sister
ReplyDeleteis analyzing these things, therefore I am going to
inform her.