…if I told you how little sleep I’ve had
This latest bout of insomnia actually started a few days before the breakup. The breakup and the manner in which it happened didn’t help, though.
It’s one of the worst ones I’ve had in ages; not including when just I stopped sleeping when Alison was first diagnosed.
Cable: You start hallucinating yet?
Me: Yup. I assume you’ve been awake this long before too if you know about it. Saw a ghost on all fours walk up my wall.
I slept zero hours in the past 48. It might also be that I’ve not gone to the gym, but then again, I’m in no shape to go to the gym.
And none of my normal meds, plus some recently added stuff from a friend, seem to be helping.
The boy’s away, in case you’re concerned. Which is good, cause I just found my watch in the fridge.
Her: Are you ok?
Me: I haven’t been ok since November 8th, 2015.
I’m considering checking into a hotel. The pad’s empty save for memories I don’t wanna remember.
On a different note, I look great. I think I’ve lost four pounds. But I don’t advise it as a dieting scheme.
Me: (to self) Well, this isn’t good. (turning) Boy!
Son: (runs in) Yes, papa?
Me: You’ll be having water and peanut butter for a while. Papa will just be having water.
He: (laughs) OK, papa.
Well, while my personal life is in the tanker, at least my finances are also plummeting as well, so there’s that.
Honestly, though, I’d give my life savings right now for some sleep.