Sleep, rhythms, melatonin, hypothalamus

I don’t want to sleep.

Every word in my textbook tastes like pressure.

I don’t want to sleep because then I’ll have to wake up and I would’ve lost another day to junk food and television, attempts at a first chapter of a story that never turns out right, calls I never make and deadlines that wait in dark corners…to chase me.

I don’t want to sleep because I’m probably working for the wrong goal or staring at the wrong affirmation. I repeat it to myself again and again and again when the truth is there, right there, clasped by a clip that’s as light as day.

I don’t want to sleep because I’ll wake up to another day, then another, then another and expectations will outshoot progress. Expectations that turn a problem into a complicated equation.

I don’t want to sleep.

It’s better to stay up, reading while the heart of the issue is still numb from its time in the freezer and I’m still a part of the carefree day that is yet to end.


I was re-reading Prep all this while and Lee Fiora’s personality just got to me. I am her. Perhaps even more socially awkward, though less in certain ways.

I just totally ruined what could have been something really great and awesome. I’m such an idiot. I grew self-obsessed, thought too much, and forgot about the other side of things. About what an ass I was being about it. How making it a problem made it a problem to someone else when it wasn’t a problem. It was just a nice thing.

It’s just… when do you stop analysing things? When do you stop wondering whether a person is just being polite or genuinely means it and whether you’re supposed to shake it off or accept it? When will I start thinking of compliments as compliments, invitations as invitations, things as things instead of searching for possible backhanded-ness? When will I stop being so awkwardly, embarrassingly apologetic about everything, forgetting that’s it’s sweet and cute only once or twice?

This week has been… quite a week. I’ve had to deal with more than I can possibly take. I’ve looked at random people I speak to everyday and thought, God, how does she have it so easy? It’s not fair.

And maybe that’s just it. It’s easy if you think of it as easy. Being withdrawn can’t, shouldn’t work unless you want to isolate yourself from everything nice. If you want to be all withdrawn, you probably shouldn’t expect people to try to bring you out of your shell and feel horrible when they don’t because their life isn’t about you. Only your life’s about you.

I wish I’d thought of this and gained insight a little earlier. I think I’ve wrecked and ruined everything. I feel so whatever. Like I can’t believe it happened but it did. Of course it did. For once, this isn’t a rant about people, about how things around me should be but about how I should be to change things around me.

I really wish I’d thought of this earlier and hadn’t behaved so atrociously and now, all I can do is hope/pray for things to miraculously set themselves straight because I need this second chance. And I wish this moment isn’t just one of those moments that passes quickly, bringing back the repression and chaos.


I’m listening to Sleeping With Ghosts by Placebo right now. That one song was my muse for half a novel years ago and it’s weird hearing it after I’d played it over and over again years back till I got sick of it. It doesn’t sicken me anymore, surprisingly, but it sounds as hauntingly amazing as it did in the beginning.

It’s songs like these, TV Shows like The OC and books like A Walk to Remember, Gone With The Wind and Fountainhead that  are responsible for my romanticized notion of life as they make everything sound so beautiful: love, hate, self-destruction, everything. It isn’t though. Life is more like this circle of bullshit, like, maybe A Catcher in The Rye.

I loved that book as well but reading it was torture, though disturbingly beautiful torture at some places though my head ached at others. Life’s like Prep by Curtis Sittenfeld which I couldn’t put down but every page filled me with dread as I knew where it was leading. We’re all doomed. Everything’s balanced. Misery is canceled by happiness but that in turn is balanced with misery. It feels like this endless circle and moving in circles, we all end up dizzy and ditzy.


Caught Harry Potter yesterday.

Everyone agreed that it could’ve been better. More than anything, the whole experience was ruined for me this time because I was as depressed as hell before, after and during the movie due to other reasons. But I liked the end unlike most people. And the way it was shot was beautiful. Am I the only one who thought Dumbledore said some really weird, awkward things in the middle?

And god. Ginny was so not like how she’s supposed to be. And what’s with the balcony things? I don’t know. It wasn’t very Hogwarts-y. The first three movies got the feel of the book way way better.

Anyway, yeah, you can’t expect such a brilliant, brilliant book to be got exactly right on film. I would’ve probably enjoyed it more if:  a) I hadn’t had to rush from school and join my friends and miss the first two minutes of the movie and b) cared so much about the fact that the person sitting next to me and I had kind of had this mini-Cold-War yesterday.

I guess this year was just not meant to be. Fuzzy-warm-awesome traditions have either vanished or become these iron-clad LAWS. Ridiculous, but true. I miss a lot of things but I guess I shouldn’t brood. People change, things change and the world evolves.

And I shouldn’t be so resitant to the new traditions that are cropping up which feel nice but I just tell myself that they aren’t how things are supposed to be because I’m more attached to some things than I should be.

On the brighter side of things, I have a new fictional character to crush on now:  Severus Snape. Wow. I loved him. I love him. Why did he ever not find some one again?

I can totally relate to him nowadays. I think that’s one grade better than finding myself to be so so much like Lee Fiora from Prep. THAT was depressing.