I have been forced to surrender to my inability to sleep correctly.
I have had a lot of trouble sleeping since I was, say, thirteen years old, when I would stay up late to listen to my Tupac CDs on repeat. It’s a pattern I’ve never really been able to break. I don’t think I qualify as an insomniac, as I really just wait for people to go to sleep so I can do the weird shit I feel the waking world may frown upon.
Apologies to Tupac fans everywhere. Believe me when I say that I managed to weird it up in ways you’re better off not knowing the details of.
For the past several years, as I have reluctantly grown into this state of adulthood and apparent responsibility, I have had a whole mess of reasons to be up during daylight hours. People want me to come meet their babies (with an alarming frequency), and I have to buy my own food. It’s terrible.
When I don’t have anything to do in the morning I just stay up all night masturbating and playing Quake, and life is great. When, however, I’ve gone and made plans against my better judgment, I have to correct my schedule in advance, so I’ll stay up for some 34 hours or so in preparation for whatever stupid human bullshit awaits me.
As the result of this, I wind up being awake for two days (sometimes more) at a time. I sleep four or five times a week instead of the standard seven. It hasn’t had what I would term a positive impact on my mental capacity.
Most would probably suggest that I just, like, go to bed every night at the same time, and wake up every morning to an alarm. Go fuck yourselves.
I have decided that the only viable solution for me is to evolve into a new sleeping pattern, akin to that of a cat, or, come to think of it, most animals which creepeth and crawleth. I’ll sleep like eighteen times a day if I have to, and just wake up whenever something interesting is going on around me.
This will work, right?