I Can't Sleep.

Every time I try to sleep, I seem to set my mind on overdrive.
When I explain it to people, it seems friendly or something - "I thought about you before I slept", but it's really something worse. More like, "I can't stop thinking about people as I try to sleep."

So far, I've managed to become intensely aroused, then rapidly sink into contemplative thinking, wherein I started to think of making amends with someone who I was quite mean to, though admittedly, I think it was the only way I could prevent things from getting worse. I started to think of ways I could apologize to them, or how they might act if I tried to.

Then I started thinking about feet, and ways I could enjoy them. I started wondering if my feet are rough compared to other peoples' feet.

I thought about this old instructor I'd befriended. He was very unprofessional, and one day, while explaining how I'd intended to move to Canada, he said "Geez, you just really want your dick sucked, huh?" and I was really offended by it - I think mostly because I felt like it trivialized my intentions and because he's supposed to be a professional or something. I started thinking back to that, and how he's probably a firm advocate of Freud.

I started thinking about how long I'd said I'd get a job, and how now that I'm moving to Syracuse, it doesn't matter, really.

I mourned the two years of college here that I'm leaving behind and can't use.

I started thinking about how you can sort of measure your comfort-level with talking to people by topics you can cover. If you can discuss anything that happens in a restroom with someone, you're really comfortable talking to them.

I worried about how I might get in trouble if someone says I'm harassing them with my mundane but kind of friendly postcards, and wondered if I could get fined for them.

I wondered if someone still has a really ugly picture of me in pajamas with my hair tied back.

I realized it was really, really hot, and tried to take my blankets off, then noticing it was 2:00 AM.

I thought about how I never talk to Battler, and how Hjalmar seems distant and bored with me, sometimes. It's probably my fault, and I should pursue people more.

I thought about how it's been a long time since I've legitimately cooked from scratch, and felt guilty about it because being a good cook is one of my best attributes.

I thought about how I might not be able to buy these Doc Martin-esque shoes I'd wanted for a long time because I'd spending so much dosh on people. Then I got a little riled, because I remember my mother berating me for purchasing Aaron a birthday gift saying, "I'd like to ask you the last time someone bought you something."

I cringed when I realized it was Alex who last bought me anything, and felt like a bastard, even though I know if I apologized for that, it'd get me nowhere.

I thought that, at some point, my father must have been tubby because his clothes are too big for me, sometimes, and I'm a little taller than him.

I thought about Uboa's muted "Aaaaaaa-" that I never got to listen to, because I didn't want to mess-up my speakers.

I thought about how saying I'm a lot like Dante from Clerks is sort of insulting to me, and that I should find someone better to be like.

I thought about how Tom sort of looks like Lenny Kravitz to me, for some reason, and then subsequently about a time I was flying to America from England, and they only had a single looping Lenny Kravitz music video on the in-flight Television.

I thought about the Squid Meatloaf that Patrick Bateman is offered in American Psycho, and the weird french-fries, too.