I’m looking forward to it.

Not really. I am just feeling cranky and somewhat nihilistic from all the fucking sleeping I have been doing lately. I feel like I am fighting an invisible enemy just to type in a few measly words before picking up where I left off in my coma.

I probably should not use that term so lightly, but fuck it.

I just want to feel awake and alive. I am frustrated by my lack of productive hours and my inability to focus. Caffeine doesn’t help much. I drink my diet cola and I can feel the caff trying to perk me up, but it’s like a picket fence trying to hold back the avalanche of my sleepiness. It gets crushed without appreciable effect.

Not that the sleep itself is all that bad. At least, not lately. I am not retaining any memory of my dreams. That doesn’t mean I am not having any, of course. Without dreaming, our minds disintegrate as our medium term memory gets more and more overloaded. There

are a few (thankfully rare) brain disorders that cause people to lose the ability to dream, and the outlook for those poor souls is pretty grim.

So no, I dream, as must we all. But I don’t remember them.

I resent that a tiny bit. I want to know and remember my dreams. I want to be able to really deeply contemplate them, and by so doing perhaps gain insight into what the dream was “trying to tell me”.

That is merely a metaphor, of course. Dreams are not truly trying to tell you anything. They are merely the product of the mind’s internal processes. Like I said before, dreams are how our mind deals with complex and emotion-laden emotions that can’t be properly processed with only the resources of the unconscious mind. So the conscious mind is awoken and whatever needs to happen in order to get the job done happens.

And then you can slip back into unconsciousness.

However, it is useful to think of dreams having some kind of message for us because often their content points to what issues we are having in life and when properly interpreted can yield significant psychological insight.

So hard to stay awake.

I suppose it’s possible that my sleep aids, trazadone and quetiapine, might be somewhat you blame for my somnolence. Historically, I have found that while sleeping pills may or may not help me get to sleep, they invariably make it hard for me to wake the fuck up when I want to do so.

So part of it could be that, plus the sleep apnea of course. And lurking in the background is the escapist part of my mind that uses sleep as a way to avoid having to deal with reality.

In  that, it is the ultimate form of procrastination. You are essentially putting off dealing with reality itself.. And that’s not always a bad thing. .

It’s just that there’s so much to do, and I’m tired of sleeping.

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Heat death, part 2 of 2.

I wonder sometimes if I will ever break the glass wall that isolates me from others.

The problem is that it was installed when I was very young. Either when I was raped at 3, or that awful day that I got bullied on the way to school and realized that I wasn’t safe anywhere except when I was home.

Hello agoraphobia. You’re new here, aren’t you?

Whenever it was that it started, it’s been a deep and fundamental part of me for so long that when I try to imagine it not being there, I feel intense anxiety bordering on the existential. It is the Thing Most Dreaded. It is the Ultimate Exposure.

Hmmm. I am going to stop with the using capitals like that. I have a deep down feeling that using capitals like that is the first step on the road to Crazytown.

Anyhow, as much as I dread that wall not being there, I also hate the fucking thing and want it gone, because it’s one of the main things fucking up my life. It’s what keeps me from being able to be relaxed and natural around people. It’s what keeps me in the dark and the cold, far away from the world of the living. It’s the infection that makes me come across as weird and sick to others, even though I try so hard to be liked.

It’s the reason for my inability to really sync up with most people.

And some of it, I must admit, is the intelligence gap. But I refuse to believe that is insurmountable. There must be a way for me to  learn how to converse and connect with people who aren’t on my level.

But that’s a topic for another day.

Maybe the secret to overcoming this wall of mine is a little old fashioned age regression. Not to the point of active delusion, obviously. I am not going to start going around believing I really am three again.

That would be a horrible sight to behold and disturbing as fuck, frankly.

No. I am talking more of a social regression to a state of mind where I have no preconceived notions about how to interact with people and what I can expect from others, and rebuild myself from there,. minus all the ghosts inside my haunted head.

Take everything at face value, and approach things with the innocent affability I used to have when I was a wee sprog. Peel back all those layers of fear and distrust and paranoia and try to learn to just… be me.

It’s a tall order. Ironically, it will take a lot of work to get back to being simple.

Or maybe it won’t. Maybe I just have to imagine it then cling to that thought until it becomes a part of me.

I am not some fractured creature.
I am not a heartsick boy.

I’m brand new, and I don’t have to own my past at all.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.