introspective periscope : peeking inside since Y2K ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Thief ten o'clock; after work - fifteenth of march, 2001 yeah. there is definitely a need for some of tori's venus tonight. i don't know what's up. maybe its my lack of sleep. maybe its the serious realization that some things have to end for others to begin; some things have to be put to rest for others to take full flight. i went to bed so late last night, my body shaking from the caffeine of the too-strong coffee that i'd brewed with the intention of pulling an all nighter to work on my philosophy paper. i did not even attempt the paper. i have focusing issues, as of late. when something gets into my mind, its been making itself damned comfortable, stretching out on my thoughts like it was some sort of overstuffed sofa; drinking up my vision like its been raiding my wine cellar. i've got a lot of bad houseguests in my head today and whats worse is, i know they won't clean up after themselves. *shrug* Depression is boring, I know. I can feel it getting warmer, of course. Still, the greyscale of the sky is a little forboding and seems to be warning me that march has not not seen the last of its lion phase. i'm not taking the insulation out of my windows just yet; i'm not packing up the winter clothes so soon. when i finally went to bed, i didn't sleep. the dreams of the dreamers in the treehouse have been getting stranger and stranger and mine are no exception. i rarely sleep for more than a half hour at a time, lately, and when i do wake, i am either crying or shaking. god, i hope my subconscious hasn't been signing leases with these night thoughts because i don't need these noisy neighbors disturbing my thoughts anymore, damnit. we got up at seven thirty, a time that sometimes, i wish i were diciplined and motivated enough to see a lot more often. i bathed and found my books and we trodded off slowly to the library, dreading the task that lay before us. nacho and i found my favourite place in the library: a secluded window table with comfortable chairs (not the static electric ones like upstairs) and some rather simplistic stained glass to decorate the light. nacho noticed the same thing that i'd noticed years ago: the light. only now, we are bright enough to know that the light is not the only thing, but the structure itself that lends to a george tooker-esque feel to the quietest, lonliest place in the stacks. i read what i needed, reviewed the highlighted lines and noted that i'd scribbled in my paperbacks. not ten minutes before i was stressed out enough to need a cigarette. i don't know why i bother, really. i know i understand what's going on; i am a very analytical person at times. the trouble is i don't know how to quite write and critique a philosophical argument that really says a whole lot of nothing. i find it to be quite a task to decipher what some fruitloop meant when he called objects logical fictions when he couldn't be more definitive himself. if he can't define it, please..how the hell can i? but enough about that for now. the paper is written, barely scathing on five pages; the paper is written, the conclusion full of wit and sarcasm that says exactly what i think about the assignment to begin with. maybe i invite debate and trouble to my door sometimes. sometimes, i like the company. we went to rennassaince to baroque after that. the professor that i've looked up to for so many months never ceases to frustrate me in a way that reminds me of my father. he pushes and pushes me til i'm ready to quit; til i ready to break things. i know that the upbuilding will come, but its hard to remember sometimes. i went places. i came home. i went to work. i came home. such is a thursday in the life of a girl who's begging for spring. my head was racing before i finally began the fits of sleep last night....i got a line or two in my head and i need to do something with them before they start partying with the other thoughts and don't wanna come out. ~Come Like a Thief in the Night~ its at this time, all the time, when i'm somewhere wandering between sleep and wakefullness that it comes like a theif in the night; that emotions run the most high, that everything seems so serious and vivid, so stomach turning end of the world. what was it that possessed me to think that this was going to be everything i was investing hope into? what part of me thought that this could be a success? i've grown so apathetic; i've grown so empathetic for the girl that doesn't say much anymore, for the girl who's leaving me suspended in silent ackward moments, leaving me to do the talking, leaving me behind. its at this time when i'm tipsying between the tangible world and this misty world that i can't quite reach, fog that i can't quite feel, memories of memories, that falling feel that makes me jump into wide wakefulness again. its now when i can't help but resolve to do better, and give it all up at the same time. its at this time when these thoughts steal in quietly like a theif in the night: i can't stop watching the green glow of the clock, when i can't stop being a math whiz, counting down hours til the sunlight will burn a beam on my pillow, counting away hours when i could at least get out of bed and do something.... but i'm too respectful of the girls who can sleep, the girls who have prophetic dreams to be clanging pans or watching television at this hour. so i'll lay here and keep watch, shivering between slumber and sanity, waiting for dawn to crack, waiting for my thoughts to split, waiting for the breakdown, waiting for the sheep to come, waiting for a lullabye, waiting for sleep. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- .what came before. - .what happened next. a diamond at the bottom of the drain - 20 october 2017 |
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