I can’t sleep. As soon as the world quiets down is when my head starts mechanically humming with thoughts, desires, and erratic notions. I won’t allow myself the sleep I desperately require to complete 5 hours of education daily. Education that constantly seems to roll out of my head like a slowly running batter poured from a bowl. But in the night, my mind is a carnival of plastic to be observed with anticipation, waiting for the gumball to spiral down the whole machine and fall perfectly at the bottom, my epiphany. It’s the epiphany I am worried about. What if it is something that I’ve feared for so long, something I know in my head is right but my conscience tells me is nothing, just a bad dream, paranoia? What I’m sitting up wondering about is, if the subject of your paranoia turns out to be correct, what does that make of you? A genius or a causality? Does this happen to everyone or am I just some crazy girl fixated on words and ideas? My mind is awake but my body is aching for rest, but let us be honest, they divorced the same cycle when I turned thirteen. Like a damaged clock, the minute hand going the wrong way. I suppose you can still tell the time, but who wouldn’t rather have one that functions. I’m Renoir and Dali’s duel masterpiece, I am your mysterious bruise, I am the missing pages of a novel. My mind is weak and heavy in the daylight, I have a vampires’ mentality, but in the body of an estranged Las Vegas hooker gone missing 20 years ago. They are two puzzle pieces that just won’t click together, no matter how frustrated or tired of the game my player is. I continue this all night, and drift off somewhere a few hours before I have to wake. The day is working my way through a swamp of the responsibilities I ignore and the motivation I lack. So here I am, humming away on my oversized, overused flat screen computer. I may tire soon, but in the meantime I’ll just keep going. Actually, maybe it is time for bed.
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