Of Late Night Evenings and Inablility to Sleep (Part 2)

I can't sleep again. I feel unsure. Not about anything particular, just a constant sense of unsureness, hovering. I feel listless. Tired. Apathetic. I have been productive this week. I have been smoking more, lately. I can not sleep much. I feel a constant and unrelenting weight on my chest.

I watch free pornography. I no longer download it. Too much space taken up, and the constant affection for a collection. I feel sad and guilty. Guilty that I feel bad for no particular reason. Guilty of being tired and depressed. Unhappy with what is what and who is who. Unhappy with what is on television. Unhappy that I am so concerned about dying.

I think of this and it makes me panic. My heart beat races, my mouth becomes dry, I can't breathe. I find that my eyes are unable to focus on anything. I find that my mind is unable to focus on anything.

I am finally beginning to feel tired now. Really tired. Not the tired of the soul, but the of the body. Maybe I will be able to sleep tonight. I decide to watch more of the Matrix. I decide to blog. I watch commercials with half interest. Drew calls my name as I step out for another smoke. I hear her call my name again. I say what and she grunts. Three or four minutes later I hear her snoring.

I think about bobsleding. I wonder why bobsled shows as being spelled correctly but bobsleding does not. Those red dashed lines make me feel inadequate as a writer. As though I can not properly craft the English language. I think to myself "Anyone who says that speak American is an idiot." I wonder if I have said that while I was drunk.

I have strange aches in my body. I have heard people say that everyone gets them from time to time. These strange aches of the body. The pain of being alive, nothing more. But I still worry. I worry that these pains are more. They are the pains of death. The pain of living comes from dying. And we are dying, all of us, every single day. Every last one of us.

And it all makes me sad.