That savoury slice of death

After two hours of shuffling in bed, reading a book, making two trips to the fridge eating pickles, crackers and drinking milk, getting into my PJs, playing with my Rubik’s cube, maintaining my average of completing a colour in less than two minutes, writing a hurried diary entry and shuffling through the old ones, watching an episode of “Hope and Faith”, not laughing even though it wasn’t a re-run, rummaging through my bag and trouser pockets for my cell phone to know what day is it only to find that there was no date and time set and the blank screen showed 00:00 because I never bothered to set it, asking dad which day it is, then what month it is, to which he walked out on me heading off to bed, watching the news, checking my inbox and ending up on the couch writing an insomniac blog post about utter nothingness since my msn contacts usually become inert yet unresponsive after 1, especially a couple that have had quite enough of me lately, I end up a ball on the couch.

Could be caused by the fact that I gobbled down two coffees at 8 because I didn’t want the headache to kick in, could be caused by the fact that sleep and I just don’t go well together, could be caused by the fact that I might have forgotten how to fall asleep unforced, nonetheless, for some reason unknown to me and possibly the human race and worlds beyond, I’ve been waking up for two days and sleeping for a half for the last 3 years of my life.

Yes.

Is it a coincidence that I can’t remember any memories before I was 14?

Whatever.

Gobble. I have no idea how I learned/used that word. That happens you know, along with other things, when you’re sleepless and caffeinated.

A piece of advice: Don’t go through old diary entries. In fact, just write your diary on a piece of paper and burn it as you scramble the omelettes and melt the butter for that breakfast that counts as dinner when you don’t know when the day starts.

Apparently, according to the few pages I flipped through, I’ve been quite an asshole to a lot of people, and a lot of people have been quite assholes to me. Isn’t it ironic? Hindsight that is. A fucking charming aspect. If your eyes are placed in front, how come you can’t really “see” anything until you look back? Doesn’t it sound like on hell of a joke? A built-in prank, for that someone who embedded it to have the…what’s the word.

It’s not coming to me.

Ah!

No forgot it.

Fuck.

Oh, that’s another sleepless effect. Philosophy. I have those ingenious moments when I feel like I’ve been possessed by some sort of extraterrestrial Jedi with a panoramic view on us earthlings scurrying around like friggin rats on a spree.

Sleeplessness, isn’t it just entrancing? You’re not really awake, but then again you’re not asleep. You’re tired, but you’re not resting. Caught in reverse that is. It’s when you can rightfully say you’ve experienced temporary insanity.

And you know what’s really funny about it?

I  can’t sleep.

Can’t as in lost the skill of falling asleep. No, according to me, it’s not intrinsic. It’s not instinctive, doesn’t come naturally to you. It’s an acquired skill, just like driving. You’re not born with a license, and after this I’m sure you now know that you’re not born with an Off button.

I can’t find mine.

Can someone please stick my head in a plastic bag long enough for my carbon dioxide intake to increase and knock me out for a while?

Anyone? I won’t press charges.

…Anyone?