Underneath; Precious Illusions; Everything; Simple Together; That I Would Be Good; 8 Easy Steps; So Unsexy; Still; Crazy

I can't sleep.  I keep reaching for my phone; it's a lifeline, it's a connection to the outside (it's a distraction).  I have my headphones in, my iPod on (product placement?) and Alanis Morissette is playing over and over and over.  This is the first time I have ***** to try to fall asleep; is the fact that it's not working a good thing, a bad thing, or just a simple matter of fact?

Should I call into work tomorrow?  I don't want to go, but that's nothing new.  If I call in, though, they might suspect that something's wrong.  And though something probably is wrong, I don't like to mix work life and my personal life.

Should I go out running?  Not unless I call in to work.  But why not?  It might tire me out, it might help me sleep.  Sleep, however, may be a lost cause at this point.

*** will not talk to me ("I should have loved a thunderbird instead").  I try to tell myself that my preoccupation with him is unnecessary, and that he is not real, that he is not really there-- because we have never met.  I feel like I have been here before, and I most likely have-- and if I have, then maybe I am living that classic "definition of insanity."  It all feels new, though maybe it's the phenomenal aspect and not the noumenal aspect that seems new; it all certainly feels familiar, though the details and the specifics of this circumstance are different (or are they?  is it a trick?  is it all some kind of illusion?).

I keep hoping *** has contacted me, but what would that do for me?  I keep telling myself that I need to learn to let go of things (certain things, things I obsess over, things which are immaterial or illusory or impermanent; things which cause suffering due to my own personal desire or my ego's expectations of the material world [what the fuck am I even talking about?]), but I think I also have a problem with burning bridges and "letting go" of things in an insincere, self-serving way; as a defense mechanism; as a means of avoidance.  I was hoping not to have to let go of ***, I was hoping to not
have
to let go
of anything;
but here I am again, without an old friend
to comfort me;
I am my own old friend, and I'm getting sick of entertaining myself;
I have overstayed my own goddamn welcome.

I wish someone else would invade my goddamn head.

I still can't sleep, and the **** I've ***** has already escaped my prefrontal cortex and my kidneys, and it looks like I'll go on thinking until my death; sleep is not going to come tonight.  Sleep is not going to be anything but an illusory, momentary, impermanent and false relief.  I don't even dream anymore-- or if I do, I'm not remembering my dreams, unless I am in some way altered when I happen to fall asleep.

This will probably all be erased soon.