Goal: to write about something else other than weed...
I woke up much more tired than usual. While I regularly put my body through sleep-deprivation hell, the previous night of sleeping at 4 am and waking repeatedly throughout the night till 8 am really got to me. My lovely cats, hard to be angry at them for being the naturally boisterous and loud creatures that they are. It has become apparent the past few weeks that if I am to smoke to sleep, I do need to go for more sleep-friendly strains...
Who can recant a day's memories and make them seem interesting, beautiful even? Not me, for another day is just another day of boredom. A dull day.
Between class, I worked on an essay (yawn). My creative juices began to flow (this tends to happen when I'm tired) and I ended up writing a somewhat depressing piece, which I'll post some other time. It could be a little better, not that I'm willing to spend a lot more time on it. The utter pointlessness. Then more class. Then another. Yawn. My mother calls me to yell at me, and I feel terrible. But, yawn. I study at the bookstore and let my eyes travel upon new titles. I touch them, beautiful, lovely books.
But I am tired, you bore me.
Then darkness settled in. Darkness like curtains being drawn on a sunny day, and all you'd like to do is go out and play. But no. A refusal from some outside force, it might seem, or perhaps it is my natural inclination for this darkness. All at once, I felt -- alone, stupid, small, insignificant, crazy. Darkness, in the sheer darkness of past sunset, in Davis, CA, I felt I blended in with the shadows better than the color black. The chill in my bones. Ash and soot. In the worst mood possible. A leave-me-alone mood.
And I walked home and I tried to let it past. Thought of remedies and things that would make me feel better without lashing out on others. But it would not past, not for a while. I had some food and felt better, then smoked, and felt a whole lot better. Six hours and two bowls later, yeah, I feel a whole lot better.
I'm confused...confused as to why I feel this way, so frequently that it's almost every day. It often comes in moments, can last hours, can drag on through the whole day, draining my energy, my totality and vigor for life. I've been trying to be more forgiving to myself, but with some hard thought, I don't think it's normal to be as emotionally unstable as I have been feeling lately. Very fragile. It comes and goes. I'm functional. But 'depression' should not be a function of myself.
There is more I could say, but my brain aches and 3am has found its way to me. Incense lit, and cocooned till tomorrow. Another day to be tired. I hope for the best, tired person.