I'm plagued by dreams and robbed of sleep

When everybody is running in the big race
And having a good time
Who am I to cast a shadow
Who am I?
I looked Death in the face last night
I saw him in a mirror
And he simply smiled
He told me not to worry
He told me just to take my time

And if you come to me
And if you touch my hand
I might just slip away
I might just disappear
Who am I?
And if you think I'm worth it
And if you think it's not too late
We might start falling
If we don't try to hard
We might start falling in love

~Onigo Bongo “We close our eyes”


"Living in books is a fairly romantic notion, whether fictional or academic. You're so *dramatic*, Severus, with your dungeon and glares and monochromatic wardrobe and your other endless lines of defense. You're the tragic hero of your own drama. The sooner you acknowledge it's all a form of romanticism, the easier this will be."

So quickly the sky is becoming light. Just over an hour up, but when I finally gave up on the fantasy of sleep it was still dark. Any light was artificial, and too bright. But I couldn't sleep. So I sat and watched the news, and mum handed me her CSI book because, well, I like CSI and she does too. Maybe I will read it today, or maybe I will try to finish Faerie Wars first.
I donated blood on Tuesday, and I wasn't the one who felt nauseus. I find the sight of my blood sort of intriguing, and at the same time, scary. But it's fun to think that maybe there's some vampire out there making Capri Sun of my blood because, well, the pouches of blood make me think it must be so.
We're starting a trend, listing Alan Rickman's nose as an interest. That is, miyumiyu, bubblegumkid and I. Miyu was the first. But we're cool like that. But then, just the other night, I randomly titled an entry "I love his hooked beaky nose," and it just went from there.
I need to email Cathy because she wants to stay in touch. I need to email Brit because we want to do something next week. I'll get there. Eventually.
Passing time until I take a shower. Pretty myself up and pass the day restlessly. Chores are done, postcard for Shanny and CDs for Julia off in the mail sometime later today I guess. I worked on them last night.
I'm not sleeping well again. My dreams are vivid, for a while it seemed so real last night. I wake up because I'm too hot, too cold, too uncomfortable. I'm hungry, or thirsty, or my bladder lies and says it's full. I try not to stay up all hours, to keep out of that bad habit. I find myself up earlier and earlier as sleep shies away from me. I have no motivation.
Read, read, read. Lose myself in the words. Forget to write. Forget to speak. Forget about the world. Miss my friends. Fear of the future. It looms. I don't know what to do.
Speak, child.

"It's wonderful to have someone touch you again, isn't it? You don't realize how touch-starved you've become, until someone touches you. Maybe they don't even mean to, maybe they just brush their hand against yours as they pass by, but it's enough to set off the craving. It's enough to make you realize how long it's been since someone has touched you, even in just a casual, friendly way, and how much you want to be touched."

I crave a companion all of my own. No matter. In time.

Fin.

The bear's name is Boo

Name a CD you own that no-one else on your friends list does:
Stellar "Mix" Well, pillu might. It's a NZ band.

Name a book you own that no-one else on your friends list does:
I'm going to go out on a limb and say nobody has "Never After" by Rebecca Lickiss

Name a movie you own on DVD/VHS/whatever that no-one else on your friends list does:
We have four boxes of videos. No DVDs. I don't even know what all we have. Hell... The Magnificent Seven

Name a place that you have visited that no-one else on your friends list has:
Stony Bay. It's in New Zealand. Somewhere at the tip of the Coramandal pen.

My angst tastes like...

Black Licorice
Find your angst's flavor

Unique and difficult to place, your angst finds its source in something you keep hidden. You have something serious and possibly traumatic, but you try to hide it from everyone and just tell them to ignore you when you seem troubled, that everything's really OK. You might think that you have good reasons for not telling people, and some of them may in fact be true, but most likely a lifetime of keeping your secrets has led to a resolution fortified by rationalization that nobody else can shake simply because you never give them a chance. Ask yourself if it would really be that horrible to open up to others; nobody says you have to do it all at once, even. But you should at least try getting out of your shell a little. It's not healthy to internalize everything and conceal it. Anyway, if people really care for you, and they probably do, then they'll be loving and supportive regardless of any reason to the contrary.

How very, very true.
Mum called today. Her boss is lending me Spirited Away because he thinks I'll enjoy it. I think Mum must talk about me a lot at work. It's a DVD though, so Rhi how would you like to see a Japanese movie? Or Brit, maybe?
My passport arrived. I felt like an idiot when I botched my signature. He said it was okay. I didn't know it was my passport at first. It was a package, with my name, and it looked somewhat official yet I didn't remember ordering anything... It was a weight of mum's shoulder's when I let her know. Which is why I did it.
Boo is sitting on my copy of Good Omens. Charlie is standing right next to them. I can't believe I managed to creat a niche on this desk for my stuff. That doesn't mean it gets left untouched though. Eh bien.

Fin.