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October 03, 2002
Morning Again?
Dear Diary.
Why am I an insomniac?
Throughout my childhood I was always a fantastic sleeper, falling into deep comatose slumbers as easily as pressing a button. My mother was blessed with a child that would sleep all the way through the night, not waking even if the house collapsed around it. I was a priority driven system, and sleep came at the top of the list. I'd find myself asleep in all sorts of different positions. In the car. Leaning against the fridge. In class. On the floor in the middle of the lounge room. There were no slumber issues. I was a happy camper. Sleep was a commodity that I had plenty of. Life was good.
Until now. Why then, Oh diary, has it become necessary for me to stay awake for such long periods of time? If had meant for us to live 38-hour days, the world would be spinning a lot slower. The sun would not rise at 5am and poke me in the eyes, and birds would not sing out their daily morning rituals before their time. In a 38-hour day, people would have 14 extra hours per day to organise themselves and get a whole lot more things done. In a 38-hour day, I would not feel like a homicidal maniac wishing that I had a gun so I could shoot down every last twittering fucker that sings to the rising sun. This, however, is not the case. The world revolves every 24 hours, leaving me wondering what the hell I did to deserve such a whacked out body clock.
Did I accidentally walk through a cosmic fuckup ray?
Did I thoughtlessly offend Captain Snooze, the all-powerful god of slumber?
Does it have anything to do with alien experiments or voodoo?
If so, is it at all possible to reverse these effects before my world completely rips apart at the seams? The rope of my life is thinning to the brink of snapping. I'm not asking all that much, really, seeing as sleeping was an ability that I seemed to excel at. I have the potential to be a very good sleeper. I slept through my last Chemistry Exam at highschool and still managed to get an A. Truthfully, I am a born sleeper. It is simply cruel to withhold my birthright from me in such a manner.
Now, I am finding myself assessing the various hues in the sky as the sun rises, wondering if I'll ever get any sleep. I lay there in the dark, which is really quite boring when I'm alone, thinking all about the day and the tasks I have to complete. It seems that my bed is the complete cure for narcolepsy, as it is virtually impossible for me to get any rest while near it. Living like a zombie is not healthy, nor is it helping my thesis to get written and completed. Diary, I have seven weeks left of University ever. I'd like to actually remember some of it clearly.
Please then, Diary, if you have any compassion in you at all - Grant me the ability to sleep? I promise to be a good girl, and respect the sleeping habits of others. I vow that if my sleeping patterns normalise, I shall endevour to spread the word of your almighty power and kindness to all who lay sleepless. Oh, Diary, please help me. Grant me the ability to pass out without the help of concussion or alcohol.
You sleepless companion.
Jacqui.
Posted by Jacqui at October 3, 2002 04:46 PM
Comments
mmm. yumm. i'll be back.
Posted by: boxen at October 3, 2002 08:58 PM