While on the subject of sleep…
I’m tortured by it. Initially I wanted nothing to do with it. I loved the night life - everything was so mysterious and begging to be explored. But later, it became about the dreams. In short, dreaming was one big taunt about a world I could never experience. I could see it and almost feel it but it was never mine to possess. I’d wake in the morning and lie in bed desperately trying to go back to the world I just left until finally giving up.
This pattern persisted and was only exacerbated by the night being the only time for me to work on art while having to maintain a semi-normal work life to pay the crippling student loans that I foolishly took out to pay for art school.
Cycles being cycles this kept up for years until the predictable psychotic break occurred - which is for another time.
Now, I take handfuls of sleeping pills every night to knock me out to varying degrees of success. The night haunts me. It’s the perfect blend of boredom and isolation. People don’t like that 3am phone call to just chat. Social media is a bore that leaves you feeling sadder than having stayed alone so you can open a vein. Streaming shows until you pass out is nice in an existential manner but not as nice as when you’d be forced into terrible reruns with even more terrible commercials on the late night channels and finally hit a test pattern.
The mind doesn’t let itself stop and time moves too slow for it.