Jan. 12, 2004 - 4:29 a.m.
It's that long, slow ache that keeps me awake.
My mind is a fried mess, processing overloaded imagery on battery backup.
Insomnia tickles my restlessness, inhibiting the rest I need, I crave.
That awful feeling like I have missed something vital in my journey through life nags me persistantly, echoing in the back of my brain, pounding away at the inside of my skull, desparate to be released, but I can not find the door.
This heavy sigh would seem to say it all, but you can only read and not hear this anguish.
Another cigarette and my lungs may very well collapse, but what else is there to do when everyone is tucked quietly in their beds, dreaming blissfully, relaxing overused muscles, curling around soft pillows and letting the whir of a heater or A/C lull them deeper into sleep, and I sit here alone in the dark, illuminated by a single harsh light, typing away frantically to chase away the voices and the pain and the insufferable tiredness that hounds me relentlessly?
I need a better mattress.
Or I can face down my fear of medical quacks and go see a man in a white coat and beg for pharmaceutical aid. I don't fear the medication half as much as I fear that eyes will start glowing and they'll start talking about sleep tests and clinics and how well the monkeys responded to the injections and well only 28% of the test group lost their sense of smell, and treated immediately the internal bleeding can be stopped.
Am I rambling senselessly again?
I may just have to crank up the heater and boil my family in their own juices. There is something about heat that makes me terribly lethargic, possibly enough to push me over the edge into sweet oblivion.
The alarm is set to go off in less than 2 hours, and I am no longer making any sense.....even to myself.
