This is the second night staring at the grey shadows on the wall. No rest for the wicked I suppose. It’s a cruel joke because my body is begging for sleep and I’m now imprisoned in an endless cycle of exhaustion. Tried listening to records, tried reading dry philosophy, tried standing outside in the cold ‘til I shook, tried out the opposite end of the bed, even got up to 666 sheep and still no zzz’s.
They say its hormones. What a shit word, hormones – the perceived terrorist of mankind.
It’s time to resort to the medicine cabinet. I guess, why not? A girl’s gotta sleep, especially when she’s growing something inside of her, and even more especially if that thing’s not going to be growing for much longer.
Is it too insensitive to ask for a drink for two? Am I allowed to make jokes?