A fear ever grows inside me that I am slowly becomming an insomniac. I have very long days, and get very little sleep to get me through them, without help that is, little pills or syrups out of bottles labeled "pm". I have noticed that I am starting to see things differently, even think differently. Sometimes I can't tell if I like the subtle changes or not though. I guess only time will tell, but by then it may be too late if I don't approve. This version of me is a little testy, and kind of a hermit. This version of me cherishes every moment alone, because those moments equal peace, and if I'm lucky, quiet, which in a way is like sleep for me.
I think I kind of know how a zombie feels; blank, numb to the world, falling apart, wandering around waiting for something to happen, maybe waiting for someone to blow their head off so they can sleep. Maybe zombies are made from insomniacs buried alive...just a thought.
Today is friday, and usually the weekends bring me sleep, like a long awaited monsoon in a desert. I embrace my weekends for the potential of this event.
Goodnight.
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