datura

I'm up late...again. It's that endless cycle since I was a wee one. I can't sleep, so I'm up all night screwing around, or reading, or trying to catch up on my work. It's me and the stars for company, glittering overhead, except I can't see them because of this thing called a 'roof.' I wish my bedroom had a huge clear skylight so I could watch the sky change with the hours. The house cat stalks my window to see if my light is on. Then it jumps onto the glass and scares the bejesus outta me. I don't mind except when I am actually asleep and he howls oustide, unrelenting, a furious bundle of fluff hair lamenting his choice to head out t for the night. IF I had not napped earlier, I wouldn't be up when everyone else has their eyelashes laced shut with unconsciousness. I never minded before, but it seems my nocturnal chums have dropped like flies. They all sleep now. Andmind you, I'm just up 'cuz that's how I was born, no freaky chems. Never really slept well at night. My friend bought me a book, went to the old beatnik b'shp and read a little of each one from my current favorite author, Milan Kundera, then surprised me with it during a carpool. Little black text and me for the night tucked away until sleep comes and smacks me upside the head eventually. Ah, this site makes for some good eye candy at times like these.