Insomnia. When you have it, you're never really asleep and you're never really awake. Everything is just a copy of a copy of a copy. Reality melds with the dream world. You hear things that weren't said. You see the world as though you are looking at it through the eyes of a pet goldfish. Nothing seems as though it could be, yet everything has more being than it seems. Thoughts jumble inside the head as though you have no control over them. Emotions? Ha, I go from feeling nothing about everything to feeling everything about nothing. It's brutal.
It's not that I have anything better to do than sleep. Lately, I've just been laying in bed staring at the cieling or at nothing at all. Appearing dead to the world. My eyes being closed helps nothing. I simply lie there. For hours. It's excruciating, so I get up, read a book, or watch a movie or some bad late night television.
I say things that I shouldn't say. With my mental filter gone, all the things that I've "learned" not to say, I say. Things that offend. Things that shock. Things that put that "you're fucked" look on people's faces. Things I mean is what I'm getting at I suppose, though I haven't decided whether or not this is necissarily a bad thing or not. I mean, what's wrong with saying what you mean? Besides the fact, of course, that we've been taught our whole lives (especially men) to not say what we mean, feel, or actually intend. Choosing for a course of speach that leaves little to offend and even less to understand.
Unfortunately, I look like shit. Though be it asthetically pleasing shit, it's shit none the less. The bags under my eyes were checked at airport security and it took me two and a half weeks to convince them that they weren't full of heroin. Also, my memory and spacial abilities leave a lot to be desired. That combined with my slightly askew sense of perception makes waiting tables extremely difficult. And, I'm ranting. At work. To tables of innocent people and co-workers alike. It's giving people the impression that I'm wierd. Which I am, but in a setting like moxie's, which is essentially every good looking person from high school in one place, you can imagine what they're reaction is. Any straying from the status quo is strictly forbidden and harshly judged and "corrected". By both my "peers" and "management staff".
I've tried everything too, soothing music, chewing on honey comb, home remedies, Tea, babbling brook sounds. Nothing helps. I refuse to resort to perscription or over the counter meds as well as alcohol because they do not correct the problem and I haven't taken any over the counter meds in about 8 months. Just because, well, I don't know how much good they can really be doing us, and I'm fit as a fiddle. C'ept this damn not sleeping business.
Looks like the old blog is going to get some lovin, which it hasen't really been lately. And, I was accepted to U of S, and start on Sept. 6th, which means that I'll have a ton of time to study, but won't be able to remember any of it the second that I close my books.
It's not that I have anything better to do than sleep. Lately, I've just been laying in bed staring at the cieling or at nothing at all. Appearing dead to the world. My eyes being closed helps nothing. I simply lie there. For hours. It's excruciating, so I get up, read a book, or watch a movie or some bad late night television.
I say things that I shouldn't say. With my mental filter gone, all the things that I've "learned" not to say, I say. Things that offend. Things that shock. Things that put that "you're fucked" look on people's faces. Things I mean is what I'm getting at I suppose, though I haven't decided whether or not this is necissarily a bad thing or not. I mean, what's wrong with saying what you mean? Besides the fact, of course, that we've been taught our whole lives (especially men) to not say what we mean, feel, or actually intend. Choosing for a course of speach that leaves little to offend and even less to understand.
Unfortunately, I look like shit. Though be it asthetically pleasing shit, it's shit none the less. The bags under my eyes were checked at airport security and it took me two and a half weeks to convince them that they weren't full of heroin. Also, my memory and spacial abilities leave a lot to be desired. That combined with my slightly askew sense of perception makes waiting tables extremely difficult. And, I'm ranting. At work. To tables of innocent people and co-workers alike. It's giving people the impression that I'm wierd. Which I am, but in a setting like moxie's, which is essentially every good looking person from high school in one place, you can imagine what they're reaction is. Any straying from the status quo is strictly forbidden and harshly judged and "corrected". By both my "peers" and "management staff".
I've tried everything too, soothing music, chewing on honey comb, home remedies, Tea, babbling brook sounds. Nothing helps. I refuse to resort to perscription or over the counter meds as well as alcohol because they do not correct the problem and I haven't taken any over the counter meds in about 8 months. Just because, well, I don't know how much good they can really be doing us, and I'm fit as a fiddle. C'ept this damn not sleeping business.
Looks like the old blog is going to get some lovin, which it hasen't really been lately. And, I was accepted to U of S, and start on Sept. 6th, which means that I'll have a ton of time to study, but won't be able to remember any of it the second that I close my books.