It's Really Dark Outside at 2:45am

How the fuck is it possible that I was lying in my bed at 10:30pm, watching Laurel Canyon on my laptop, fought to keep my eyes open, awoke (for what I assumed was a brief moment) right as Frances McDormand and Kate Beckinsale were about to have a threesome with Alexandro Nivola (who could sleep through THAT?) and then BAM. I never went back to sleep.

Fucking hell.

I have surfed the internet 50 times over. I looked for new hairstyles on "trendylonghairstyles.com". I read every gossip website known to mankind. I read blogs that I had never read, and learned way too much about people I didn't want to know that much about to begin with *shudder*. I got up and ate a rice cake. And then another one. Then felt guilty for going over my stupid fucking Booze Watchers points. Lord. Eating disorder in the making.

I thought about all the things I could possibly think about. The whys and hows of all of my relationships and lack thereofs. The friendships that I thought were blooming, that feel like they're dying. I formulated an email in my head, then when I tried to write it it sounded retarded and I decided that it was too intense and I should leave well enough alone. Then I attempted to reply to two OTHER emails and realized I am not in any frame of mind to be making decisions about anything. NOBODY makes decisions at 2:45am!

I'm now obsessing about the fact that, I have 5 hours in which to get some shut eye. This would be acceptable if I was having a bangfest right now. But I am not. 5 hours of sleep after Bangfest, good. 5 hours of sleep after self-induced insomnia, bad.

Stupid stupid coffee that I had 12 hrs ago. Is that the culprit?

Or is it just my brain working in overtime? It's been awhile since it worked the night shift.

Never Mind

Mind, we need to have a word.

I was overcome with exhaustion when I came home tonight, and readied myself for an early bedtime. I even washed my face and called my boyfriend to say goodnight at what seemed to be way too early in the evening.

I dragged myself to bed, kicked the cat out, read a page of "The Namesake" until my eyes felt heavy, and let myself fall asleep, the book falling from my hand to the pillow.

An hour later, I found myself jolted awake, by you, dear mind. You who are destined to drive me insane.

I tried to quiet you and will myself to fall back asleep, but you wouldn't shut the fuck up. For God's sake, why is it necessary to remind me of all the people who's lives are *probably* so much better than mine? Do you get off on when I start obsessing about my job and how I hate it so? At the anxiety I suffer from the mere thought of being there? I thought I heard you laughing at me under your breath about the fact that I ate that stupid cookie when I'm supposed to be trying to diet. You're taunting me with the fact that I haven't figured out my Christmas shopping yet, that I need to vacuum, that I'll never be as good of a writer as I want to be. That maybe no one loves me after all, and I'm all alone in my apartment, and its awfully quiet in here and why are my ears ringing?

Mind, you got me to get out of bed and turn on the tv to drown out the sound of you until, hopefully, I can make my way back to slumber again, to the dulcet tones of Everybody Loves Raymond.

And I was SO looking forward to a good's night sleep tonight!!!!