"Bonabell's" wrtings,
a vent from awhile ago. "I do not understand myself, and why I get so very upset over things that i should not be dwelling over at this hour, as i try to rest. i think of such horrible, and saddening things, despite me trying to imagine more comfortable, or even wonderful ones. i go from trying to imagine myself snuggling up with some dearly beloved, only to have my mind wonder to the very saddening case of how many birds are dying due to humanity, habitat loss, global warming, hunting.... to a situation in which is so very saddening, a very unlikely, yet still always possible scenario in which i have to explain to my friends that i do not know when i will be online again, because my family cannot afford the Internet billing. the thought of how ever isolated, and lonely my life would be, then, too. what is the matter with me? why can i not simply enjoy some pleasant nothing? that, even at rest my insecurities, and imagination run wild to the point of it bringing sorrow. why must i get so very upset as i try to slumber before school? it is always on school days. it does occur on weekends, too, but mostly on school-days. is it the looming stress of school? the burden of having to focus, and retain knowledge throughout the school day, and often have to do academics outside of school for an hour? the knowledge that i could very well could fail a class by missing some crucial segment of what one teachers utters? i do not know, i just know that i am restless. tired, yet unable to drift away from consciousness. awake enough to still be able to think properly.awake enough to type this in some form of coherency. awake at this evening hour, in which i should be asleep. yawn as i might, and delicately close my eyes, sleep does not come. bury myself under a heap of blankets, i get too warm, but i get comfortable. snuggle with a stuffed animal or pillow, and i get uncomfortable lying on that side after awhile. attempt sleep with only a thin blanket does not yield the same comfort as the pile. lie on a heating mat, and become too warm, though it aids with soothing soreness. listen to music, the sleep does not come. listen to idle videos in which people talk, videos i have seen, some i have not, the sleep does not come. lie awake in silence, listening to the buzzing of something, and the ringing of my ears, the sleep does not come. reading is difficult when i am like this, and even then i am afraid if i delve too far into a book, i shall not be able to place it back down until the hour is too late to get proper rest. the sleep-aid medication, melatonin, no longer works properly for me any more at the current safe does, take it, and the sleep does not come. no any sooner than it would without. embrace the sorrow and try to cry, the tears do not come. ignore the sorrow, it comes back more brutal. there is no escape for me now, not at this moment. i shall, after typing this, resume the futile struggle to sleep. good night, or perhaps morning or afternoon, when you, if you, actually burden your eyes with such a gainly thing known as this writing. " written 1/12/2020
- Published February 10, 2020, 17:00
- in Kiddie Pool
- in Vents and or Rants
- is not continuable by others
- 15 Views
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