Insomnia, So Sleep My Weary Soul; Music & Moods: #2, Nights

In the outskirts of all things happy and chirpy around here, here’s a sad truth to it all: I have got issues of my own. Well disguised and maybe not so, poorly, I shall venture into some, but not all of them all, that is hitting in at homebase; inside my soul. The skies are about to get a little weary and outcast around here, but that’s okay; the day seems safer when the night arrives.

These days, I don’t even sleep much as I used to before. Maybe it is a good thing; it is a sign that I am getting more active spending living my life than engaging in the dreamlands of murders, running-aways and fears. But the problem arises when the number of hours I sleep can get shorter and shorter, and how I live by that. An example will be yesterday, as the transition of dates occurred from 20th to 21st. I was feeling hot, and tired after a Friday, so I slept at 1am, relatively earlier from the usual 2-3-4am crashing timings I usually have for the weekends as there is no work. (This would be preoccupied by random surfing of the net and a slight possibility in engaging a little workout for the lazy soul within, and the lack of throughout the work week, but with no favourable results whatever the outcome.) The air-conditioner was on before, and I switched off after turning off the lights in an aid to cut off the electricity bills skyrocketing due to my long hours in front of the laptop. I remembered dozing off slightly after, and somewhere into the night, I remembered waking up to switch on the air-conditioner again because the heat is getting to me before entangling myself into the sheets again. I woke up again soon after, and the room was still dark; no light was peeking through the drawn curtains. I wondered why I was awake, and tried to get back to sleep, but ended up tossing and turning. I remembered waking up early, good enough for another day of work, just that there wasn’t. As the day progressed on, I got myself into short temporary loss-of-memory sleeps, most noticeably on the bedroom floor, big, spacious, and cold; without the knowledge of. *

(* These series of events may vary from actual, but due to the lack of good memory, they are the only facts to rely on.)

Digging deeper into facts and inner soul, at this hour and awaiting for the hair to dry (a perfect good excuse to stay up even later). I acknowledge that I have an increasingly awareness in the momentum of life; how life passes by; live for the moment; that I have been neglecting sleep for more hours of activeness. This is a step at prolonging the youthness still remaining, and a slight showing of refusal at acceptance in growing up, and worrying that life may have slipped me by, just like that. Another factor pertaining to the same thinking is that I was affected, more or less scared, by the increasing numbers of youths around and how it all dawned on me that I had since left those years. I am not specifying this only because of becoming an uncle to 3 children, but also mental observance on the streets and in everywhere I go. Also, I won’t deny the possibility that I am a little sane/insane, and how sometimes endless trains of thoughts and feelings and conflicts are happening within my head, even so as I type this right about now. My mind doesn’t seem to be in any stage of resting, and how it keeps going on and on again. (See: the outbursts on MSN with friends, the thoughts of breaking from the normal, the thoughts of poledancing in a public transportation.)

The physical thing may be a factor too. Ever since the two years, I may have accustomed to the living lifestyles (read: bed), and how my mother dismantled and threw away my previous double decker bed (which I used to share with my now-married sister), forcing me to switch from a queen-sized delight to a miserable hand-me-down. In terms of feelings, I have never connected with that bed in any way, even though the mattress was one of the previous and almost everything else intact. The comfort, ease, emotion are all not there, and I only creep in now when I am feeling tired, and not because I want to.

So, it is no secret that I have been clubbing around, here on the dancefloor, here and there all over the town, getting in and out of taxis, getting a little carried away, in and out of trouble; toying with wild ideas of insatiability, self-beliefs and temptations. Even though I blame it on the two years, I can’t recall most of it now; and now even though it has minimized, in some ways or others, and that of late night surfings, I have grown to living in such late night timings. It has long since been times when I used to sleep early, tucked in merrily, exhausted, and waiting for some sort of good little dream to save me from my life.

No absolute solution has been thought of yet, but notes to eyes, mind system: remind me to remember to close, switch off whenever necessary, and not to go on and on. I have been getting a little uncomfortable when I hear recent comments on how bloodshot they are; how deep my eyebags are getting. A little mischievous side (#102) of me had actually thought it would have been sexier, getting a little more mature and deep features (read: George Clooney), but the commentators have been stressing the aging process, and though I don’t let it get to me, it worries the hell out of me.

I remembered a time when, usually at 10pms, I would walk into my mother’s room, and find the comfort within to rest a while, to speak a little, with my mother. Sometimes, I would wish to pour out on personal feelings, thoughts, happenings, like maybe, how I was having a bad day at school, or how things didn’t turn out the way it did, or how I was maybe, a little, bullied in school. I would silently doze off, and find myself in the wrong place, bed, and crept out at the stroke of midnight into my own.

So, sleep, my weary eyes. Sleep, my weary soul.
Sleep, and tomorrow will arrive, and hopes it is better. And not to worry about not opening them again.
My life is not just as yet done as it is.

My playlist of videos for the night, ever the mysterious, ever the comforting:

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