I’m up, with an electrical storm of thoughts and impulses racing through my mind. Normally, as of late, I’ve been knocking out by 11 PM. This new bedtime has been worrying me on multiple levels – am I going to get enough time of studying for my upcoming exam season, and am I becoming anemic again? But it’s past midnight, due to the gratuitous use of Rockstar: Energy + Juice. But my mind is racing a mile a minute, and no amount of staring at hopanoid structure is going to quell this hurricane of thoughts.
This is the week. I feel uneasy. What do you do when the sun is blinding your eyes, when the stars decide to revolve around you? You never asked for the podium. You had no particular desire for it, and you were very content outside of the limelight. Yet there you are, in front of the crowd. They’re waiting for you. Hush, the crowd goes quiet. They’re on the edge of their seats now. What’s going to happen?
I’ve lost track of time. I don’t know how far in the season we are. Is it the season premiere, where everyone can stop holding their breaths and relax, knowing that we’ve got a good few more months of solid, predictable writing? Or is it sweeps, where the entire direction of the show changes and the unexpected happens? Or is it the season finale, where no one will ever find resolution and satisfaction, and everyone is left holding their breaths for what seems like forever?
I was very close to falling into the old weaknesses… the weakness where my fingers search for that name in my address book, longing to say anything, anything at all, to fish for life, to fish for a sign that I still exist, somewhere in that desert of barren memories. Then I heaved a sigh, and sat on my bed, restless. I had to say something. Something. Something.
So I turned here, and now I’m just vomiting whatever comes to mind. I have to fight it. Shit. God, why am I so restless? Tell me, my three cans of Rockstar and two cups of coffee. So perhaps I overdid it on the eve of my Microbiology midterm. And now it’s proven counterproductive. Now I can’t sleep, and my thoughts are forming so rapidly that even my individual neurons feel jittery. I want to walk around outside, but it’s almost 1 AM and I’m not a fan of being mugged. I don’t get it, though. It’s not like I am even sensitive to caffeine. What is in you, dear Rockstar? Please, tell me your secrets, so I can hone this restlessness towards productive study time. Dear friend, you have stabbed me in the heart. You are keeping me up successfully, but now I cannot focus on the task that should be at hand. Instead, I’ve invented new tasks, new problems, new questions, new weaknesses, new answers.
But whoever are the writers for this show, my god. Bravo, for this is riveting.
...
And then, an interlude, a fight and a scream-match among the crew, and now it's all out of my system. Vomit can only occur so much until it gets on someone else. And now comes the tumble, and the crash. I'll be sleeping in both peace and regret. But it is now a footnote. Thank god. I am now free to do whatever I so please, because now my mind is at ease now. Brain, relax yourself. Next time, do me a solid and decide to sleep in. The lazier, the better. The less ambitious, the better. Hopefully, this entire extreme caffeine high was a dream. Loser is a loser is a loser.
Don't backfire on me, bro. So help me! Best case scenario: everyone moves on, forever. Then no more problems. HA! Right. Fuck. What a joke. Something in the stars is just not allowing me to be comfortable, sit back, and enjoy life for what it is.
So brain, don't be such a stupid bitch next time.