“I’ll sleep when I’m dead.” I said to her.
Knowing full well that the fact that I’m awake may put me there sooner than later.
Stress keeps me day dreaming even when the moon is the only light not flicking.
Past the third “i” analogy I’m beyond woke.
What is sleep anymore?
Ascribing a sense of worthlessness to good sleep. What honestly could at this point be better than a good night sleep? Honestly, nothing besides my son and for some reason it evades me.
Time I should be healing I’m stuck in the twilight zone.
Making plans about some plans that I made plans for. Listing as if I do this for a living only to feel less accomplished than the intended instant gratification.
Floating on all the paper planes that hit the ground. Drowning in checks and xs. I fight sleep thinking that it doesn’t help me get ahead.
Oh the different ways we lie to ourselves.
That’s another post entirely, however