Insomnia is great.
The cycling through the tricks of the trade to try and force yourself into sleepcounting, colors, breathing, meditation, masturbation
The humbling and frustrating on the verge of tears moment when your standing in front of the fridge trying to decided which elements will make the best food coma.
The moment where you finally decide its hopeless and you get up to pretend to be productive.
The growing anxiety with each passing hour as your expected sleeping time goes from 8 glorious hours to 3 tormented ones.
Oh waitno insomnia sucks.
Thanks a lot brain that paper is going to be extra fun to write on little sleep. Asshole.
On a lighter note: Im not sure if Ive gone a little insane or if joy has just been sneaking up on me in funny ways. I keep finding myself laughing or grinning ear to ear about the smallest things. The rainbow umbrella in a sea of black umbrellas. The lanky kid running off the bus and down the street as if his life depended on it. The memories of my 14-year-old self and the love letters from my boyfriend in military school and how intense it all seamed at the time.
I dont know. Maybe I am going a little crazy woooopeeeee
The cycling through the tricks of the trade to try and force yourself into sleepcounting, colors, breathing, meditation, masturbation
The humbling and frustrating on the verge of tears moment when your standing in front of the fridge trying to decided which elements will make the best food coma.
The moment where you finally decide its hopeless and you get up to pretend to be productive.
The growing anxiety with each passing hour as your expected sleeping time goes from 8 glorious hours to 3 tormented ones.
Oh waitno insomnia sucks.
Thanks a lot brain that paper is going to be extra fun to write on little sleep. Asshole.
On a lighter note: Im not sure if Ive gone a little insane or if joy has just been sneaking up on me in funny ways. I keep finding myself laughing or grinning ear to ear about the smallest things. The rainbow umbrella in a sea of black umbrellas. The lanky kid running off the bus and down the street as if his life depended on it. The memories of my 14-year-old self and the love letters from my boyfriend in military school and how intense it all seamed at the time.
I dont know. Maybe I am going a little crazy woooopeeeee
VIEW 9 of 9 COMMENTS
sinkflsink:
Try sleeping at work...I mean you mind as well get paid for it, right?
turtled:
I can tell you more if you must know 