laryngitisxxlullabies Blog and Journals

I have that feeling.

The one where it seems like you haven’t closed your eyes in a week. My head is swimming, my ears are buzzing, my legs are bouncing up and down, rapidly.

Up, down. Up, down.

My mind tells me it’s time to go to sleep.

And miss something? That’s my reply.

If I’m lucky, I’ll live seventy more years. Twenty-five thousand, five hundred and fifty more days.

Death’s nearly caught up.

Why go to sleep when there’s so much left to see? So much left to do? I have a book to write, a cat to feed, things to learn. Languages that have to be spoken, paintings that have to painted, photographs that have to be taken, symphonies that have to be composed.

God, I need coffee to do all of this.

I want to wake up at three and drag myself to the kitchen. Three in the morning—the perfect time for preparing that gourmet soufflé I’ve always wanted. I turn up the music and dance a tango. The neighbors won’t complain when I explain to them how imperative it is for everyone to learn how to tango. These people need culture. They call me crazy? They’re crazy if they don’t want to learn how to learn Polish.

“Intervention”. What a silly word and a silly thing. They told me I was obsessive. Sure, obsessing about getting the most out of life, obsessing about seeing the world.

Go to sleep…

Never!

Sleep is overrated, anyway. Right? I feel fine when I haven’t slept. Except that I forgot to feed my dog. Now he’s dead. What was his name again? I buried him in the back yard, next to the gold fish, the hamster, the mice and the parakeet. They were all lovely pets. But they didn’t do anything, just sleep.

The world is governed by three things: religion, money, and sleep. Without one, the other two cannot exist. Seems strange, but then again, so does the concept of sleep itself. Who would willingly let their body shut down for eight hours so they could feel refreshed? That’s what’s caffeine is for.

Dreams scare me, anyway.

What if life itself is just one of the dreams of some higher being? What if we’re just a figment of God’s imagination?

Let’s not think about that, though.

Let’s get working on that soufflé.