Insomnus. Lacksasleepicals. Fuggin’ tired.
Basically my body doesn’t like UK time these days. UK time doesn’t taste like America times (they have several) and I blame Brexit for making me feel like this isn’t my country, these are no longer my people. I also blame Brexit for the cancellation of Firefly. And for the Boer War.
I finally done sleeps at eight of the morning. What a stupid time to do sleeps. For four hours. What a stupidly small amount of sleeps at a stupid time. Moan. Grumble. Self pity.
Sadness, in actual fact. I just feel sad at the moment. Not a debilitating sorrow, not a burning grief, just a sadness that lingers like never fully thawing ice in a mountaintop crevasse. It’s rarely healthy to want things that are improbable goals but I cannot deny I currently long for improbable things. It’s never healthy to ruminate on ‘what if’ but my mind is full of them right now.
There are daily distractions and delights to help me through the weeks despite my sadness. Some of them lessen the weight a while; some simply add to the yearning for miraculous change. If sleep will befriend me again I’m sure I’ll pass through this downturn. Unless I’m attacked by robot bees.