I need to get up at around 7 at the latest, preferably six. If only there was some way that my neurons could benefit mankind instead of keeping me up thinking about augmented hypothalami. Perhaps some sort of processing power sharing scheme that uses my brain's excess power to write sitcoms.
The title of this post was carefully engineered to appeal to my tastes in senseless strings of characters. It almost evokes a very lazy raspberry, the kind where deep, gradual beat tones thrum off and fade out. The three semicolons are supposed to be your face hitting the keyboard.
Scenario 1: I fuck around on here and then true for-reals tiredness sets in and I go to bed, wake up a little groggy, great success.
Scenario 2: I go right back to bed and lie there, get stressed about morning coming on its way, have an episode, miss college, f-f-f-failure
Scenario 3a: Somehow I get neither sleep nor another episode and face college tired. Fall asleep in lecture, ten points from Hufflepuff
Scenario 3b: Somehow I get neither sleep nor another episode and face college tired. Remain alert, dangerous, and bitey until tomorrow eve.
Scenario 6: Realise I'm living in a Phillip K Dick novel, take comfort that the bit where my reality unfurls is probably almost over
I know there is something more productive to be done with this energy. I could write sitcoms, even. But at this hour, with college in the morning? Undertaking anything lengthy or qualitative or engrossing or enjoyable would be the difference between couldn't sleep and wouldn't sleep, surely.
So I'm going to torture myself using social media until a clear path arrives.
I miss when I would wake up and not care what time it was. But I think I hated that, too.
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