Wednesday, January 10, 2007

The Writings of An Insomniac

The Writings of An Insomniac

Friday, 05.01.2007, 0154 hours

Happy New Year's.

The New Year's come and gone, and I spent it packing. And I slept past the fireworks. After all, the new year's yet another day.

Night after night, I lie in wakeful slumber. My body wearies, but my mind is awake. I am an insomniac. And it is not by my choice that my mind is most active in the still of the night. While the rest of the world sleeps, my brain starts to whirl. As my body tosses and turns in reluctance, my brain churns out its best ideas/ thoughts. It is as though, in protest of the whirlwind of daytime activities, it chooses the silence and tranquility of the deadness of the night to think.

I HATE IT. It robs me of my sleep. It exhausts me. It makes me HUNGRY. And there's nothing much left to eat. Night time cravings, for me, demand sodium and protein. And I've not bought anything in protest of FUCKWIT HOUSEMATES WHO EAT MY GODDAMN FOOD.

I HATE THIS. I need my sleep. The night is beautiful and all, but I need to sleep. I want to sleep.

Samuel Taylor Coleridge had it right when he wrote:

O sleep! 'Tis a wondrous thing,
Beloved from pole to pole,
To Mary Queen, the praise be given,
She sent the gentle sleep from heaven,
That slid into my soul.

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