On Nights Awake

Forgive me for this. I know it's been a while. @_@

I feel disgust at what I write, but at least it's honest. Truth is still a value, isn't it?

When it's 3am and you find yourself walking barefoot in a house where you can't even sleep in your room. (The closet has suddenly collapsed on your bed and now you're on the couch, repeatedly pressing the sleep button on the TV.) You're surprised to note how Discovery Channel has kept you awake this long. You think you should drink the leftover brandy but you know that's not right. You find yourself hoping that some kind angel will give you Valium. But it never comes. @_@

You try to cry because you vaguely remember how crying used to lull you. (But of course you can't. There's nothing worth crying about.) You suddenly feel a vague feeling of anger. Something irritates you and you don't know what exactly. But you know it's there. It's scratching from beneath your chest. You feel tired but you're wide awake. >_<

Nothing consoles this - nothing on this beaten couch at 3am, no matter where or how you turn. Then you swear to yourself as if it was the gravest thing in the world, "I will not be subject to this again." You repeat it ten times for good measure. Then you finally concede to the fact that life just is.

I hate insomnia. T_T