Something has kicked my insomnia into tryhard mode. I can’t pinpoint the exact culprit(s) for 100% certain, but if and when I do, they will die a slow and horrible death.
I do have a theory that my new and improved super dose of thyroid medication may be at least partially responsible, though, in which case it’s technically already dying a slow and horrible death via ingestion and there’s really nothing more I can do to punish it beyond hurling verbal abuse into the bottle.
(Which I also may or may not do already.)
I can’t remember the last time I was this tired. For the past few weeks I’ve found myself nodding off in all sorts of inappropriate places in broad daylight thanks to my brain’s near complete inability to rest at night when it’s damn well supposed to.
As I type this my eyes are watering slightly from having to stay open under our harsh office lighting. There’s a murky doom fog rolling around in my brain that even the most aggressively strong cup of coffee can’t seem to chase away. I am only staying vertical by the power of miracles or unicorn dust or fairy jizz or whatever other arcane variable it is that keeps us humans going when by rights we should be keeling over.
And yet tonight, I guarantee I will be the widest-awakest person on the planet.
I envy my husband, who can conk out practically on command.
I envy cats and their ability to squeeze in about 26.5 hours of dozing per day.
I envy the residents of Kalachi, Kazakhstan, whose mysterious sleeping sickness has been making weird news headlines since 2014.
That’s right, I’m mad jelly of a small village suffering from motherfucking mass carbon monoxide poisoning, that’s how much I’m craving a session of shut-eye that takes place during the honest-to-goodness wee hours of darkitude. That’s what this has come to. I would willingly breathe in goddamn poison if it meant that for once in my life I could sleep the immovable slumber of a cursed Disney princess.
You know what? Screw it. Where’s the nearest abandoned uranium mine? I’ll hike right down into the deepest darkest bowels of that fucker and set up a tent, if that’s what it takes.
And if any other members of the Dark Eye Circle club wanna join me, I say the more the merrier. Heck, we could go all out, set up an exclusive summer retreat for insomniacs. Camp WannaGetSomeShutEye. All the CO and s’mores your exhausted little heart can handle.
I love this idea. Ima go pack.