It’s me here. Yes, I know it’s been a while. Its 2:10 am and I have no idea as to why I am writing this. Forgive me for the lull in the middle. As seen from my dwindling stats, I doubt many of you might have missed me.
So here I am, rubbing my fingers along those lovely grey bags under my eyes that seem to have appeared courtesy a month long of sleepless nights. I’m not depressed. Oh no, not a single bit. And neither do I need help. You would do me the greatest good by not jumping to conclusions like those one route minded earthlings.
I guess I have rambled on long enough to put the other insomniacs to sleep. Like I said, I have absolutely no reason for writing this. Another one of my internal dilemmas put to type. It’s getting hot in here and I am too lazy to get my ass off this chair and switch on the goddamn fan. I won’t excuse myself for the use of expletives. No, I won’t.
My mornings are not so great either. I spend half the morning trying to ward off intruders in my beauty sleep. I wonder why do they hate sleep so much as I jerk the blankets over my head while muttering a string of profanities under my breath.
Zombie like, I manage to make it through the day with my oh so persistent neck and back aches and my failed attempts at integration. And as the day draws to an end, I groan internally at yet another sleepless, energy draining night.
Annuals are starting in a few days and here I sit, like an aimless hippie, searching for the meaning of life. Meaning of life? You might wonder who the hell cares about life anyway when you’re lying awake in the middle of every night feeling like a lonely lost loser. In spite of all the draining out, I still do. Surprisingly.