I don't journal online. Most of what I write has some kind of social conscience, deeper meaning, or commentary on basic human nature. Sometimes I get anecdotal, but I'll never post something like "Today I ate food and it was good. Then I pet my cat for three hours while watching randomly televised drivel." You don't want to read that almost as much as I don't want to write it. With that in mind, I'm going to rave about my inability to sleep.
Why a rave? The answer is simple. Your friend and humble narrator is ever-so-slowly going mad from lack of sleep, and yet he cannot find the wrong in that. It has always been a dream of mine to die of some kind of brain-rot disease (syphyillis anyone?) that drives me batshit insane before I buck the ol' kicket. I like the ASC (altered state of consciousness) I get when I can't make myself rest. I like meditating in favor of crashing out. I like that people wonder if I'm okay because I look tired. Most of all, I like pushing past it and getting things done despite my sleep-hating brain.
I can't describe how liberating it is to walk around like everything is Fight Club, especially knowing that it'll only last a few weeks (a month, tops) before I crash out something fierce and things go back to normal. There's this weird sense of detachment, like very few things really matter. Sure, I pay attention when I need to, but I could very well be dreaming right fucking now. You probably have no idea how awesome that really is. If I could cut back on the smoking, I'd stay like this forever.
To end things off, I'll tell you about the other thing I enjoy about insomnia. That's fighting it. I can work out until I'm tired, fuck until I'm tired, or fuck for awhile and then work out. I can go out and find someone to do one of those things with me (usually the middle one). When I engage in strenuous physical activity, I sleep like some mystically contented baby (I know that real babies don't sleep all that soundly, hence the added mysticism). It's the best sleep ever.
Creaky insomnia please release me and let me dream about makin' mad love on the heath, tearing off tights with my teeth. (And don't get me started on the sex dreams.)