I want to write a post but yawns of epic proportions keep thwarting me.
It’s 3:32 a.m.
“I thought you were going to start sleeping earlier?”
Shut up; who are you? My mother?
I don’t need your handouts! I’m an ADULT.
*Crawls into bed with favorite blankie and curls in fetal position*
Anyway, I slept earlier once and then fell back into this devilish pattern of sleeping at sunrise and waking near sunset. I wonder how much this is not helping my mental health.
My insomnia is odder than I am, I think. I’m tired, but I can’t seem to keep my eyes closed for more than a few seconds.
I need the light on and my fan on (for white noise effect), my heater on (for heating purposes) and some kind of noise in the background for the relief of . . . something?
I used to leave my television on all night so when our cable got cut November 2014 I freaked. I pulled out the trusty PS3, popped in an old sponge bob DVD from when I was a child, and played that shit on repeat for months so I could sleep properly. I’m pretty sure if I ever hear his stupid fucking laugh again, I’m going to puke instantly.
I memorized the whole DVD. Then I had to put in a different one. Eventually I got sick of it and started playing YouTube on my phone at night. That’s when the addiction started.
Now I’ll be on my phone, on my Chromebook, PS4 and on my Desktop all once enjoying the silent company of technology. It relaxes me.
Car rides also relax me. Even if I don’t know you and you give me a ride, if the ride is longer than twenty minutes you can expect me to start dozing off. So there, anyone who wants to kidnap me, that’s the secret.
Vacuums however, I fucking hate. They sound like mini-dragons from hell to my ears. To this day in order to vacuum my floor I’ve got to put in earphones to muffle the sound or else my nerves pop off firecrackers.
Remember how I told you when I was six or so, I used to lay in the middle of the door and talk to the cars? Maybe I didn’t tell you. I don’t know.
If you don’t know, now you know.
In my head they had personalities and the body of the car was their expression. I spent hours doing it. I mean hours. My parents would get pissed because I was laying in the middle of the walkway smiling at nothing, saying nothing, and being a general weird ass.
Kids have imaginations and mine sometimes indulged in itself for longer than they liked. It still does. You should have seen me in Walgreens the other day, standing in line staring up at the ceiling completely lost in about four other worlds. The cashier had to yell and wave his hands in front of my face to get me to see he was open. Thank God there was only one other witness.
Anyway, that’s the connection I have with technology. I feel as if they’re real people. They keep me good company too, less-stressful company because they don’t care about the rude jokes and remarks I make and they don’t care if I like or watch something weird or laugh at something disgusting. They have to put up with it because they’re inanimate motherfuckers.
I feel like I see the world differently than the majority of people.
Like I legitimately think colors look differently to me, people look differently, everything. I stopped and stared at rain drops making patterns in the apartment complex pool for about five minutes tonight because it’s just beautiful to me. I regretted not bringing my camera; I’d sneak over the piece of shit wooden fence and get some close-ups.
It’s a ghetto ass pool. No one is going to give two shits.
But instead I just stared. I love patterns, remember? I stared and I enjoyed it. I star gaze a lot too. That’s much more common though.
I never quite feel like I’m present. That’s probably why I feel like I experience things differently.
It’s not a dissociation–although I used to experience that frequently–it’s more like my head is just someplace else. My brain detaches from my body and floats off into space and I have to keep leaping in my space boots to catch up to it before it goes too far.
I think myself out of this world.
Sometimes it’s all too much. Sometimes I space out. I do it on purpose because I can feel it pressuring the back of my eyes. If some place is too loud and there are too many people and too many colors or I’m just generally anxious, I zone out. I don’t know how else to explain it.
Blacking out without losing consciousness.
It’s not an uncommon thing, obviously. You know that feeling you get in class when you’re bored out of your fucking mind and you just stare off into the wall not thinking about anything or where you are or the shit load of homework you didn’t do over the weekend? I go into that zone. On purpose, and not because I’m bored.
People think it’s because I’m not enjoying myself while I’m out or because I’m not happy or whatever and they snap their fingers in front of my face and ask if I’m okay and I’m pulled back into this reality like worm from the ground by a crafty bird. And it sucks. I don’t like being interrupted.
That’s like taking food from a dog. It’s just fucked up man.
Those space out moments are what keep my sanity in tact.
Sometimes I think I’m dreaming and I have to touch things to bring myself back into reality. That gets weird in public too. But it’s easier to hide around “Friends”. I don’t like thinking about that because it’s a major trigger for me. Now, as I type this, my hands don’t look like mine anymore–there’s nothing physically wrong with them, they just don’t look like mine.
It’s happens every time I ask myself if I’m dreaming.
I don’t know man. I’m tired. I’m going to sleep.
4:47 am. It’s better than dawn.