Writing as catharsis

Broken sleep

Posted in Prose, Ranting and rambling by Lachlan R. Dale on August 28, 2012
M. C. Escher

M. C. Escher

Exhaustion. I can feel heavy lines carved under my eyes. My eyes are glazed and provide a constant dull ache. My neurons are only half firing, lazily and painfully operating at a reduced capacity.

Another night of broken, inadequate sleep. There have been too many lately. They drain my soul.

The feeling makes me want to disregard whatever obligations I have for the day – no matter how pleasurable – and return again to slumber. Unforunately, I cannot. I’m required to lift myself from my bed once more, ply my body with coffee, and enact a farcical and half hearted display of being a conscious human once more.

Lack of sleep has always affected me far worse than anyone else I know. I can certainly see the dangerous dance the insomiac has with madness. I’m not sure I could cope with any serious case of it. My attitudes would quickly degrade. I would likely become a particularly unpleasant human being.

I still dream of sleep and solace; solace and sleep. Maybe some other night.


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