soeffinhappy

Insomnia breeds depression breeds insomnia breeds depression breeeds...well you get the picture. I can't sleep. Three nights in a row, I've tossed and turned in bed for an hour or more, then nodded off only to wake up four, three, even two hours later. I'm tired and restless. I'm pacing around my house, erratically cleaning, figuring that as long as I'm up I might as well do something constructive. No use, too restless to get anything done. The horror that is my room(please don't ask about the iced tea on the shelf. I don't want to get into that) is too overwhelming and people are asleep upstairs. So I sneak out the back door and drown my reslessness in coffee, cigarrettes and cheesecake at a shitty diner. At least I had one of the good waitresses. I know all of them but none by name. Some still ask where my girlfriend is. I always want to say "She crushed my soul and I made her miserable, so we broke up. But thanks for bringing that up!" I never do though. They don't know what's going on in my life and I can't blame them for it. The dessert and the nicotine were a good distraction while they lasted, but you can only stretch out a meal of cheesecake and folgers for so long before you get tired of reading in an uncomfortable booth in a shitty diner. It's nice outside. Not too cold but not warm by any stretch of the imagination. CRISP. The air tastes like the food in ziplock commercials is supposed to taste. The diner door closes behind me and I light up a smoke, my fourth in the last forty five minutes. The first thought that jumps in my head is "I need to get laid."
I guess it's true. A meaningless, wild fling might do me some good. Or it might lead to even more craziness. PROBABLY more craziness. I love sex, but somehow my sex always comes with a side of drama. When I'm at a resaurant I tell the waiter not to bring out the cole slaw with my club sandwhich, I don't want it and I want to tell God not to bring out the drama with my sex. That's the thing about trying to offer some constructive criticism to deities-they're all like "Hey I made the universe, and I know everything and if you want to have your sex your just gonna have to eat your drama and LIKE IT." And really, what business do I have arguing with the creator? He runs the entire universe, I can't even keep my bonsai tree alive.