Bloated asf + Time travelling through sleep + Books are my drugs
It’s 3 a.m. and i just got back from D’s place. I feel so sleepy and nauseated and kind of weak at the same time which means i should probably hit the sheets asap but the need to write something, anything, is definitely much greater. But i expect the way i’m feeling has something to do with the really big dinner i had earlier today! I feel so, so bloated T.T My immediate instinct is to make a huge mug of steaming green tea but i just don’t think i can stuff myself with anything else or for the next ten hours at least!
The week has flown by extremely quickly with the days just blending into one long blur, only mildly distinguishable by the numerous naps that i fill my days with. And i know that our mini getaway across the border wasn’t a real proper vacation (at least i don’t think it is? Because we drove there? Am i making any sense–) but coming back from it felt like it was! Like i said, the whole week went by without me knowing anything cause all i did was lie down in bed and read and read. Although, technically speaking, reading is never considered as a waste of time but it did leave me a tad disoriented when D and I went grocery shopping together yesterday and he bought a recyclable bag from the counter.
“Why’d you buy one? It’s only Wednesday.”
“It’s Friday, my dear.”
“No, it can’t be! Check your phone!”
And as it turns out, it was indeed Friday. Whaat
Anyway, i really do feel quite high for some reason tonight. It’s quite confusing, really, because i obviously didn’t smoke anything untoward recently. In fact, i don’t really smoke it in general. Just not my cup of tea (leaves) hardy har har
Besides that, tonight i just felt really tired. Just super weary of everything. Tired of playing mind games, tired of pushing people away, tired of trying to prove my worth to everybody else, tired of trying to please people and at the same time, trying my best to exude confidence and well-being. Some days the world seems like such an exhausting place to be in, especially when some of the greatest people who at one point in time were the stars in your eyes, turn out to be…not so great and not so shiny up close.
I’ll probably feel better when i wake up (i’m a great advocate of a good night’s sleep, in fact, i love it so much it doesn’t even have to be at night as long as it’s lengthy and fulfilling) and maybe it’s just the rainy weather that has me feeling all creaky and anxious but it’s sufficient to say, i really don’t enjoy this feeling. It’s like there’s a migraine just waiting to happen at the back of my head, it’s the tingly feeling at the ends of my fingers and toes, a pukey feeling that’s never going to amount to anything and thus feels endless.
I was thinking of getting started on Madame Bovary tonight since i just finished a book today but i think with this state of mind i’m better off with something Joe Hill. Or perhaps, something less angry and more mind-numbingly forlorn like… *gets up and does a quick five minute sweep of my bookshelf*… like Lolita by Nabokov, although i might take a crack at “Stories” curated by Neil Gaiman and Al Sarantonnio which i never got around to giving the time of day. Books are my drugs and sometimes i wish that i had the super-ability (not unlike a Dementor’s) to suck in all the feelings embodied within all the pages so i could move on to the next one, according to whatever it is i’m feeling.
What i really should be doing, and it pains me deeply to say this, is finishing The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt but my patience for extremely long winding books has dwindled down immensely over the years and it’s been almost a month and i’m ashamed to say that i’m still stuck at page 725 out of the 962 pages.
Sigh. No, actually, what i really should be fucking doing, is taking a shower and washing my hair, except it’s already 4 a.m. which means that i’ll have to settle with washing my face and ears. I’m so so tired, you guys.