It’s just so annoying, isn’t it? Life, I mean.
As a rule, I try and avoid using words like “life” or “destiny” in everyday conversations, but sometimes I slip. And then, this happens:
Thoughts can be bitches sometimes. And sleep can be a whore. So when they come together, you’re screwed. There is an phrase, I believe that goes, “sleeping the sleep of the innocent”. Well, if that is true, than I must be an axe murderer.
Sleeplessness drives me crazy. Then I become this insane person, who does stuff like clean her toilets at 3 in the morning or blog at 5. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I used to be this girl who slept at 10 and woke up at 7. But journalism or Delhi or whatever, has completely screwed me over.
I sit right now, cross-legged, with my tiny laptop on a plastic stool in front of me. Dirty dishes and spoons are lying around the mattress on the floor that I sleep on, with soiled clothes scattered as far as the eye can go. I’ve left my french windows open, so the curtains are moving with the cool breeze, creating an illusion that someone is in this dark room with me. But not in a creepy way, but just as a gentle presence, just someone who is nodding along as I rant and rant. And thoughts chase each other in the brain, with the voices in my head keeping them company.
Oh, if only, like Steinback, I could say”
I have always lived violently, drunk hugely, eaten too much or not at all, slept around the clock or missed two nights sleep, worked too long and too hard in glory, or slobbed for a time in utter laziness. I’ve lifted, pulled, chopped, climbed, made love with joy and taken my hangovers as a consequence, not as a punishment.
But alas, I live my life as if I’m stepping on someone’s toes, eat, drink and sleep with guilt, work as an obligation and love like a miser.
Whereto from here? Don’t know, don’t care.
