I am armed with nothing but an hour's worth of sleep and a soul brimming of love and desire for you…well that actually sound like a lot already. It’s been a tumultuous night. And it is far from being over.
All I could honestly think of right now is flying to your arms and resting there. My back hurts like hell and I’ve got a bitch of a headache…what more could I actually want right now? I am torn between writing you a letter and just letting my head ramble…
I know I have so many ideas in my head, and I am not denying that it does take a lot to squeeze them out of my brain. I just want to go on and on and on, talking to myself, all in the efforts to prevent my head from taking the expected turn, which, is ahem, automatic shut off. I am not sure how long I can stand this. I can feel my entire being floating, without meaning for it to float. I wonder how I look like as I am typing this. I wonder who else in the universe knows that I am not doing my job at all.
I wonder who else in this lonesome world knows that I am just waiting for the day to be over so I could hit the sack. I wonder who else actually cares whether I get any sleep or not. I wonder who else knows that I have a growing addiction for tattoos and that I always have been addicted to late-night reading, coffee and Sex and the City.
I wonder if there other lost souls out there – and if they are as lost as I am. Trying hard to make sense of the senselessness that surrounds me. But that’s beside the point, I know. I cannot possibly burden myself with all of this world’s concerns. I am not my mother. (love you mom!)
Okay, I have a confession to make. I decided to take the matter into my own hands and went out of the office during a non-break. I bought a bottle of ‘Cobra,’ a totally non-newfangled concoction. There is everything to dread in that drink. I am not even sure if it can be qualified as a drink. Most of the time, it’s the last resort, the ultimate indication of hopelessness – and that is to drink what I consider a non-drink when one has not had a decent sleep for the last 48 hours. The palpitations that follow makes you want to believe you’ve done worse than commit kamikaze. Blame it on my mom, she was the one who introduced me to the palpitation-inducing glass of something. I don’t suppose it’s called a pick-me-up for nothing.
I am just so sleepy, I slur as I type this. I mean, how crazy is that?! You are only supposed to slur when you are speaking, and not when you are typing. I am convincing myself that I can last today, and that I will last today without the breakdowns, or at least without my head breaking the table when I hit it (yeah, you read it right, it’s not the table breaking my head).
After having my shoulder hit one of the shelves in our pantry, I then asked my friend to slap me…she did, she slapped my wrist…I was hoping she’d aim for my face instead, as I was awaiting a ‘major’ impact. I am not really aware of what prevented her.
So I am back from my official and last break for the day, and I am so dizzy from smoking a couple of cigarette sticks in 15 minutes. I swear to never do that again. Soon I know my lungs will give up on me.
I still do not have the slightest idea where the rambling would lead me to. I hope that despite being armed with nothing but an hour's worth of sleep you will come to find me and think of me as the most desirable…
Like you did the first time.
All I could honestly think of right now is flying to your arms and resting there. My back hurts like hell and I’ve got a bitch of a headache…what more could I actually want right now? I am torn between writing you a letter and just letting my head ramble…
I know I have so many ideas in my head, and I am not denying that it does take a lot to squeeze them out of my brain. I just want to go on and on and on, talking to myself, all in the efforts to prevent my head from taking the expected turn, which, is ahem, automatic shut off. I am not sure how long I can stand this. I can feel my entire being floating, without meaning for it to float. I wonder how I look like as I am typing this. I wonder who else in the universe knows that I am not doing my job at all.
I wonder who else in this lonesome world knows that I am just waiting for the day to be over so I could hit the sack. I wonder who else actually cares whether I get any sleep or not. I wonder who else knows that I have a growing addiction for tattoos and that I always have been addicted to late-night reading, coffee and Sex and the City.
I wonder if there other lost souls out there – and if they are as lost as I am. Trying hard to make sense of the senselessness that surrounds me. But that’s beside the point, I know. I cannot possibly burden myself with all of this world’s concerns. I am not my mother. (love you mom!)
Okay, I have a confession to make. I decided to take the matter into my own hands and went out of the office during a non-break. I bought a bottle of ‘Cobra,’ a totally non-newfangled concoction. There is everything to dread in that drink. I am not even sure if it can be qualified as a drink. Most of the time, it’s the last resort, the ultimate indication of hopelessness – and that is to drink what I consider a non-drink when one has not had a decent sleep for the last 48 hours. The palpitations that follow makes you want to believe you’ve done worse than commit kamikaze. Blame it on my mom, she was the one who introduced me to the palpitation-inducing glass of something. I don’t suppose it’s called a pick-me-up for nothing.
I am just so sleepy, I slur as I type this. I mean, how crazy is that?! You are only supposed to slur when you are speaking, and not when you are typing. I am convincing myself that I can last today, and that I will last today without the breakdowns, or at least without my head breaking the table when I hit it (yeah, you read it right, it’s not the table breaking my head).
After having my shoulder hit one of the shelves in our pantry, I then asked my friend to slap me…she did, she slapped my wrist…I was hoping she’d aim for my face instead, as I was awaiting a ‘major’ impact. I am not really aware of what prevented her.
So I am back from my official and last break for the day, and I am so dizzy from smoking a couple of cigarette sticks in 15 minutes. I swear to never do that again. Soon I know my lungs will give up on me.
I still do not have the slightest idea where the rambling would lead me to. I hope that despite being armed with nothing but an hour's worth of sleep you will come to find me and think of me as the most desirable…
Like you did the first time.
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