05 February 2012

Waste of Insomnia


Not writing. Not cleaning. Not thinking. Not awake. I should be asleep. Very little times do I respect that biological stamp of necessity, very seldom do I admit that there is nothing better to be done with my present time than shut everything down and sleep. Its been a long day. Full and perhaps confusing at a few turns but it was, no doubt, a good, long day where the present was heavy with new places and ideas. Yes friends, today I earned my sleep.

But if awake, I shouldn't be awake for what I'm awake for. I shouldn't be writing what I writing. There were so many ideas today on what a city is, what social classes were and the interactions of either two on college towns. Thoughts on films, thoughts on music, thoughts on food and technology and yet none of these occupies the attention of my forced insomnia. None of these hold enough weight right this instant. I should just go to sleep. But I just don't get why I get included in things that have nothing to do with me. I just can't piece together why a situation is made into THEATRE when it just could have been w a t e r , something fluid which moves and adapts to any shape. My eyes are starting to itch.

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