I've never been an insomniac. Not involuntarily anyway. Though, I'm not sure if you can even be an insomniac voluntarily. Can you? Or is that just a casual self torture thing?
On second thought, don't answer that.
I haven't slept in at least 24 hours, I've had to dose my system with coffee for the first time since... ever. I don't even like the shit. And my inner health nut job is just dying to pop the vitamins, but I'm a not sure that if I take it with caffeine in the pipes, it wont explode my liver or something. Medication has too many If's and But's anyway. I'd turn to googling symptoms, but the last time I did that the fucking thing told me that I was bleeding in my stomach. When all that happened was I that I'd had some suspicious spring rolls. Yes, I was projectile vomiting my guts out, but I wasn't fucking dying. Had me all panicked for shits and giggles. And this was on the bloody NHS site as well.
Yeah. So, basically, I'm a no go on the sleep-o.
Gah.
Im not so ridiculously self absorbed to even begin to consider my life as 'messed up' in any way, as the more melodramatic in nature are wont to do, but I'm not so stubborn as not to acknowledge that something is definitely malfunctioning under the hood. I dish out advice to the little personality clone I call a brother with the speed normally associated with explaining to the listening world what my problem is with sparkely vampires, but the minute I turn head shrink on myself I draw perpetual blanks.
So it's 9 in the morning. And I'm listening to good old John Williams soundtracks because its the only thing i can realistically stomach. Lyrics have been a bit of a temper trigger recently, even the good ones. So to the wordless classics I turn. It helps that they're ridiculously good soundtracks to ridiculously good movies though.
Until Spotify decides to interrupt Dual Of The Fates with a Titanic advertisement. I'm not sure how bringing back this movie in 3D is going to make it any better. (Will they see the ice-berg in 3D?) I think my life was better off as a Titanic virgin, 'you haven't really lived until you've seen this movie' my hideously eye-bagged ass. And now they're sic-ing this -pardon the expression- shipwreck on a new generation? Not that this generation is untarnished by shit, ohhh no. Our paltry excuses for musical prodigies saw to that with frightening efficiency.
Anyway.
I think somewhere in my life there was a divergence in my little personalised version of Robert Frost's road in the woods. Only the options were never properly considered. I'm not sure when exactly I gave the finger to the road less taken, but I'm pretty sure it happened in the past couple of years or so. I've never been one for self doubt, I've never really been one for doubt if you think about it. So something has to have gone sideways for me to wake up and feel un-me, hasn't it? I'd be hard pressed to put a finger on it though. The last couple of years haven't exactly been a cake walk.
This is the part where I rue the fact that my life isn't a movie, and I cant have a tastefully done montage with some Bob Dylan music to timeskip over my seemingly tiny, yet dramatically accumulative problems to the part where Morgan Freeman tells me what to do to get this freakshow back on the road.
Movies are easier. Books are easier. Don't even get me started on the video games. Saving the world because only YOU can, with the wise sage guy who you latch onto as a parent figure because your [insert beloved family member here] died, with that snarky, roguish, sufficiently mysterious, fans-will-write-frustrated-fan-fiction-about-you sidekick, and your assorted band of lovable class-A nut jobs sounds a hell of a lot easier than trying to figure out some semblance of direction for the next two months.
Or maybe I just need a really good kick in the butt.
The references in this post are getting out of hand, anyway.
I think I can safely take my vitamins now. Over and out.
nk
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