I just read over my previous post. I sound like a crazy person. While that assemblage of words was born from unadulterated rage, right now I am writing in a cool and collected mindset, provided to me by the temporary calm brought on by one of the middle stages of insomnia. I must take advantage of it before the final stage comes upon me.
Stage one is where I realize with a flood of panic that I am not going to be sleeping for a while. The pre-stage is me lying in bed pretending that sleep will happen while my mind is giggling maniacally and being all like, “that’s cute that you think that”. My brain is rude.
Anyway, stage one begins with that realization and continues with a rush of adrenaline and dread. But wait, where are my friends? I should call them! I should call all of them! And we can hang out and then it will be like I am staying awake on purpose. Such a tricky move.
While I am patting myself on the back for being so clever, I start calling some friends but it ends with screened calls, a couple of accidental answers–you know, where you mean to press ignore but you are sleepy so you accept, then you hang up or the other person just listens to you sleep. Not that I listen to people sleep. I’m more of a yeller for sure. There might also be a screaming match that goes something like: “HOLY CRAP stop calling me! I have to get up at 7!” with me retaliating “THAT’S NEVER STOPPED ME BEFORE!!” or something equally unrelated and then someone hangs up in a juvenile fashion. I’m not going to say who, but ok, let’s be real. It’s me.
Then I resort to texting. And when someone doesn’t respond within a few minutes, I text them twelve more times. And while I’m waiting for a response from friends, I get to thinking. Why don’t I text everyone in my phonebook? Why don’t I talk to that girl that moved away in seventh grade or that guy who almost bought the contract from my petit ami but backed out at the last second? They were so cool! I should talk to them! Why don’t I talk to them? I push back fuzzy memories about spats, teeth-shaped scars, and accusations that they caused my cat’s death (my cat is alive).
30 minutes later: no response. I start to feel foolish, but I push that emotion back. No fear! What else is facebook for, except to simulate human interaction?
Probably 15 minutes to three hours later I realize that facebook is the worst. Everything is boring and posting things on people’s walls is really dangerous and I think I read in a national geographic that three days of less than five hours of sleep is the equivalent of being straight up drunk in terms of cognitive ability and decision making skills.
What I’m really trying to say is that soon facebook becomes useless, even as a time waster. It just doesn’t waste time quick enough when I am not writing a paper for school or attempting to perform some other essential and time sensitive task. I try to read and sometimes that works, but it depends on how far gone I am. The problem is when I am reading, I can’t only be doing one thing. And in this stage (I forgot which stage this is. Let’s call it…the dumb one), one thing is not stimulating enough. I’m too wired for life. I have to be using StumbleUpon and reading ridiculous articles, jumping on my bed, watching a movie and listening to music during the boring parts. Which is often because I ran out of normal things to watch a long, long time ago. Maybe eating a sandwich also, though that relies on whether I’m on a diet or not. Obviously if I’m on a diet I’ll wig out and eat six cheese and mayonnaise sandwiches, and if I’m restriction free I’ll just drink a glass of water. Self-control and all that. Out the window. It’s a good thing taco places don’t deliver and that I’m also scared that serial killers are hiding in my car, or I’d be in bad shape.
Watching stupid reality shows and looking at pictures of cats doing somersaults (somsaults is a strange word) lulls me into a false sense of regularity. Suddenly I’ll realize how late it is and start to freak out. And when I say freak out, I mean FREAK OUT. Paranoia! Madness! Life is ending! I’ll never sleep again! I have 18 fatal diseases! Did you know insomnia KILLS??? Why does the Mayo Clinic website tell me so many thingsssss……there’s a murderer in the bathroom and my orange cat is clearly hunting me. MY CAT IS ORANGE! What an odd color for an animal! How would he survive on the streets? He couldn’t camouflage!
I search the house for some sort of tranquilizer, but after realizing that my parents are neither addicts, invalids, or doctors, I come up dry and after a while…
…I fall asleep. Well. Emergency shut down is more like it. When I wake up, the madness has subsided and replaced with zombie eyes. Things clear up. I know truth from falsehood. Perceptions go back to normal.
One thing though. My cat is orange. And he is probably hunting me. I think he’s outside my bedroom door right now. But I love him just the same.