snooze

Endless nights bring on endless days...

I will see the fading from midnight to sunset, the reverse darkening that happens every day. This so called sleep schedule that had been so successful is now failing me at it's basest duty. Recharge and renew. An owl til now. I look forward to little else in life as much as I do the crawling in bed at the end of the day, which always includes a few chapters of whatever book I'm currently immersed in that is accessible in bed. I'm one of those people who are in the midst of pages of several books at one time.

I know what keeps me up at night, but it's one of those things that you dare not even think. Confessing it even to yourself is treason. Remember that whole mantra of I don't trust, I don't feel. Yes, that mantra. You're failing at it quite well.

The difference is, that here there are no millions of regrets. No admissions of guilt to be written out as an affidavit for past mistakes. The single, solitary mistake was a confession. Oh, confessions. Admissions. Terrible, loaded words that at the end of the day just mean you're selling yourself out. No confession of acts or guilt, just a confession of something everyone knew already anyway.

So this bed, which is too large for just me keeps me up at night. The inescapable feeling that I would be miles deep into REM sleep with a personal space heater sharing a pillow is a little overwhelming. And besides that, contemplating potential nuclear holocaust at the hands of our fearless leaders wakes me in a cold sweat some nights.

Nuclear holocaust, near misses of automotive collisions. Say something had happened. Would that keep you up at night?




All this psycho analytical bullshit that I say keeps me up? Sure, it's all true.
But the number one stimulant is the physical ache I feel at 23, that it's all down hill from here.




This is not a competition, and I am too old.