i'm old. i'm old and crumbling. it fucking sucks. i was an insomniac for my first 21 years, and i've always been used to the night, fucking loving staying up and getting up early if i so wished. i could function on 1-2 hours. i'd act kind of like a crackhead, but i could totally do it-- sometimes even functioning better mentally than usual. this has shaped a good deal of my personality. odd hours of sleep like 1 and 3 and 5 and 7 seemed better on me than the even ones. i thrived on and bragged about how little i needed. i spent last summer being as debacherous as beanily possible and it worked. my black pills kept me alive. fastforward to summer '05. while i look better and can fit past dilem at the desk, i can't fucking go with no sleep and get wasted and walk home at dawn, sleep 2 hours, wake up drunk, go to work and be a champ. no christly go. it hurts. it kills me. my bed is begging for me. i feel like i;m about to cry and throw up and fall over. i want to make blueberry jam instead. i want to read and write and generally just appreciate the world at night. then i want to wake up at 7 and smell the fresh, quiet morning and not need greens and mate and a hot shower and danko jones and six jumping jacks in order to leave the house. often i actually feel like vomitting i'm so tired. it's only now that i'm admitting i might not be able to run like this anymore. i'm not entirely willing to relinquish these practises but my body's probably telling me that whisky and gin and 2 hours of sleep is not the formula for healing several inches of rotten bowel complete with a tear in them. so perhaps i'll listen. so perhaps i'm a little stubborn. perhaps i'd rather punch myself in the face than go to bed early. perhaps waking up miserable every morning for the next month or so will teach me something. i have no wrinkles, i've found two potentially grey hairs, but i will not accept that i'm too old to stay up late and still get up early. fuck off, self. wake up and keep up and stop being an ass. ow.
ow.
ow (help).
ow.
2 comments:
ahhh, the good ol' days...i used to think life began at 3am...then came the 9-5 'er, or in my case 8:30-4:30 'er and life took a turn! now i'm forced to get a good 8 hours every night, and the debauchery is now somewhat strictly for the weekends! it took a while to face the facts that the body is less likely to rebel if given enough rest...and considering our condition(s), ain't nothing fun about our bodies rebelling!!
i know, i know. ohhhhh ohhhh. ah! i got about 6.5 hours last night-- very good for for me. it's a beginning. i still like to think i won't need 8 hours-- i never have.
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