Micro sleeps.

Well, here's to another day punctuated by micro sleeps and League games, although today's unconscious period of the day is going to have to go to that 3 hour nap from 3 to 6 pm.

This whole week has been a crap shoot. I remember last year, when I started gaining serious weight this month, descending into some unglorious pit of unhappiness, although this was more than often at the fault of relationship problems. At least, right now, there is so very little to hide. At least I feel the freedom of bringing my laptop upstairs every night to watch ANTM or Friends or HIMYM. At least one days like today, I can feel some small sense of progress as I write my eight page research paper... about sleep. For the first time in like, 9 days, I felt the tranquility of diving into a vast expanse of knowledge and carving out singular words for this painstaking assignment.

The obvious thing to do was to write about it. Obviously.

Anyway, the cold is messing with me. I'm determined not to fall so disgracefully like last year, but running is becoming a burden. I starve, but I binge, but I purge, but I starve, but . . . I can't keep it up. When I think about eating, I can't think about anything else. The images of myself are nightmares come true, some that chill me to my invisible bones. Also, I'm writing like those sleep journals I just read, in case you're wondering.

School has been inexplicably exhausting. Grades have been fine - I've broken the curve in Stats three times for probability; I've managed near perfects in Urban tests, 94's in Multivariable, B's in Physics C, even B's in AP Art History. Most classes average out to high A's - the worst is are two temporary 89's. But I can't focus. I've been feeling the hypagognic jerks in calc, the sleep inertia practically everywhere else. I still haven't wrapped my mind around line integrals or any of those Gothic churches. At math team, I couldn't simplify sqrt{-3/2} to i(sqrt{3/2}), which is not only appalling, but unacceptable. I need to sleep, but I just don't.

Oh, and I saw the camel this Friday. The awkwardness of what was left unsaid was overwhelming, but after a good cry and vent, its over. Possibilities are crushed, bitterness is confirmed. Is it like this that I'm going to lose the leaders I was always able to look up to? Is it like this that we will all separate, and I will leave the social group to which I never belonged? And isn't it so sad that, for the past two years, I prayed to part of them, to love them like they loved each other, and now, among them, I feel the most alone.

So easy.

To the people who think I'm scared - how could I be scared of something that might repeat itself? We fear what we don't know, what we don't know will happen, or not happen. Its not the feelings or the hurt, the disappointment or the worthless sense of betrayal... these are all known. This isn't a vulnerability that's worth fear.

To people who don't get it. I don't have anything, none of those feelings, no anticipation of hurt or disappointment, albeit a slowly beating pulse of betrayal. And a faint whisper of ideas and experience.

Don't you see it? Everyone sees because they want to see. They adore it, they manipulate it, but all that's happening is that they are being tricked. What's really cute. What's real. What's wrong. But who would believe me? I can't help but laugh with them.

I don't know who to tell. I miss feeling love towards my old friends. They're gone though, and so will the ones from this year. No more Tetris, LoL, PI+ jokes, adoration of our calc teacher. No more car rides, crazy runs, horrible physics demonstrations. No more history.

I fancied the idea of being wiped clean. But really, we're still the same people, same problems. Its just that now, no one can help us in the same context.

And this familiarity just makes it so, so easy.

Night Life

Today was the first day a teacher called me out on sleeping in class. I haven't felt so racked with guilt for a long time... so I went back later and apologized. In stats and physics and art history, I can always manage to laugh it off with several gulps of coffee and a reassuring look of squinting, dried eyes, yet to this hour, I still feel horrible for the disrespect I showed.

On the other hand, Watson is the most attractive 5'6" actor in the world. I think he's made me a fangirl. My quads, he's so cool. He's not afraid of the war... he misses it.

I finished my early action apps. My fate is out of my hands, except for not violating the Stupid Rule. Every time I study art history, I feel so stupid. How come I can't remember anything? How can everyone else? I remember feeling similarly at the worst of AP French and AP Chem, when I was hopelessly lost and too embarrassed to ask for help. In Physics C, its kind of like that, where all I have to say is jargon, like I'm some trophy girl with nothing intelligent to offer. I know people like that - I always sniveled at them, and now I'm one of them? I used to always be able to help people with their homework, even if I didn't want to. I used to do the set-up problems for fun, and now I'm fighting to stay focused on the problem. When was I so dumb. At least MVC has treated me well, although iterated integrals have been pretty rough so far, even on CalcChat. The conclusion? I'll have to sleep more... and work harder.

I've started living into the night now. I didn't really understand why people would do this to themselves. I never understand those people who slept until noon. But these past two weeks, I've been sleeping anywhere between 12 and 3, clicking the night away. I wake up at 10 to the fading glow of my laptop, eat some junk food, and click away some more. I don't have any butterflies or the nervous laughter. I don't have the old teddy bear fantasies or fireplace cuddlies. I just want to run, to go forward, to pull that infamous wink I used to fall for, to squint in the rushing winds, laughing.

I'd rather keep to Heisenberg, to be caught in an oscillating . To know position, but not speed, not position, but speed. To keep the obvious subtleties buried so deep into thought, to make horrible flirtatious allusions. To make faces... to sleep. To celebrate.

So why do I act like I want something different. Am I bitter that vengeance is all that's left to want? Or am I afraid, that after the involuntary smile, the sigh of submission, the inconceivable shift away of pleasurable embarrassment, there'll be just an emptiness left inside?