I haven't slept, not really slept in days, maybe weeks. When I do finally catch an hour or two of sleep here or there I have these terribly vivid dreams. Dreams I wake up from filled with quesions about their reality. Some of the dreams have turned out to be true, like the recent marriage of my very first love.
It's getting to the point where I'm afraid to sleep because of them. I'm running on nerves and I feel haunted and fractured, like I'm breaking. I'm hoping when I have a bed here it will fix that, but I somehow doubt that.
They are getting worse, more detailed, more real and I wish I didn't know what they meant.
Right now, I'm caught in this limbo and I know I need to adjust my focus before my condition gets worse, but every night when I fall asleep these dreams filled with smells, sounds, touches, and tastes all soaked in reality overload my senses with hope. Crushing hope. Suffocating hope. And then I wake up and start the grieving process all over again. Lately every day has been a funeral in my heart. I'm starting to feel the wear.
I'm overemotional and feel no pity for myself, only anger at this weakness I can't overcome. I'm so more like my neurotic characters than I care to admit. Too in touch with fantasy to find a strong footing in reality. Ideas flood in and out of my mind so strong and completely now that it's amazing I can carry on conversations at all.
I'm like a writing junkie in need of a fix and hate that I need it so badly to be stable. Days like this I wish I was normal or medicated or better yet sane. And at the same time there is nothing I love more about myself than my intense passion and my mind's utter need to create:
The things you hate become the things you love
and the things you love become the things you hate
And the things you hate become the things you miss
And the things you miss are always what will remain
That little bit goes out to the boy who'd have said "Shhhhh.... you're too pretty to talk" about a paragraph in to this frustrated angry-at-self rant and caused me such a fit of giggles I would have forgotten about my frustration.
I will overcome this, I always do. I just hope that I don't harden myself anymore over this. I was rather enjoying being open and warm for once in my life. I'd hate to lose that inner girl I just found already.
Please forgive my insomnia induced rant. Really, I'll get through this, I'm not worried. I just need to make time to write and I'll be fine. That always makes everything fine.
Rizzy
P.S. for the record I'm totally more open/willing/honest when I'm tired than when I'm drunk. When I'm drunk I'm stubborn/closed/gaurded. Right now I'm very tired.
It's getting to the point where I'm afraid to sleep because of them. I'm running on nerves and I feel haunted and fractured, like I'm breaking. I'm hoping when I have a bed here it will fix that, but I somehow doubt that.
They are getting worse, more detailed, more real and I wish I didn't know what they meant.
Right now, I'm caught in this limbo and I know I need to adjust my focus before my condition gets worse, but every night when I fall asleep these dreams filled with smells, sounds, touches, and tastes all soaked in reality overload my senses with hope. Crushing hope. Suffocating hope. And then I wake up and start the grieving process all over again. Lately every day has been a funeral in my heart. I'm starting to feel the wear.
I'm overemotional and feel no pity for myself, only anger at this weakness I can't overcome. I'm so more like my neurotic characters than I care to admit. Too in touch with fantasy to find a strong footing in reality. Ideas flood in and out of my mind so strong and completely now that it's amazing I can carry on conversations at all.
I'm like a writing junkie in need of a fix and hate that I need it so badly to be stable. Days like this I wish I was normal or medicated or better yet sane. And at the same time there is nothing I love more about myself than my intense passion and my mind's utter need to create:
The things you hate become the things you love
and the things you love become the things you hate
And the things you hate become the things you miss
And the things you miss are always what will remain
That little bit goes out to the boy who'd have said "Shhhhh.... you're too pretty to talk" about a paragraph in to this frustrated angry-at-self rant and caused me such a fit of giggles I would have forgotten about my frustration.
I will overcome this, I always do. I just hope that I don't harden myself anymore over this. I was rather enjoying being open and warm for once in my life. I'd hate to lose that inner girl I just found already.
Please forgive my insomnia induced rant. Really, I'll get through this, I'm not worried. I just need to make time to write and I'll be fine. That always makes everything fine.
Rizzy
P.S. for the record I'm totally more open/willing/honest when I'm tired than when I'm drunk. When I'm drunk I'm stubborn/closed/gaurded. Right now I'm very tired.
VIEW 5 of 5 COMMENTS
I hate how all the people that would understand me, live so far away.
I've been in a creative slump also where I get antsy to draw but when I'm in front of my pad, nothing comes out.
I want to say that I know what you're going through, but it's different for everybody. But I have a good idea. Sometimes I scream into a pillow as loud and hard as I can and it helps. Sometimes.
Hang in there dude!