Tag Archives: Sleep

Sleep? No Chance!

17 Feb

I feel like throwing a party, the pain has finally lifted and my heart doesn’t feel so heavy anymore. I could complain about not being able to sleep or how my life is still littered with worry mines, but I won’t. I’ll just let you in on a little secret and let you know what I like to do when sleep is too far out of reach. I limp around Youtube digging up videos that bring a smile to my face. Comedy is something everybody needs in their life. It can shine a torch through your soul when you’re drowning and help you cling onto what life you have, however unsteady and unwell you feel. You should always have a little place in life for a large helping of comedy gold.


The first time I saw this video I couldn’t believe how true the words were. I was also rather tickled by the teasing portrayal of the Americans, but you do have to admit it’s funny and brings a broad smile to your face. There is a lot wrong with this world when you think about it and I think kickin’ ass is probably just what we all need to do.


All I think about when I watch this Monty Python sketch is the following: The London Olympics 2012. The London Olympics 2012. The London Olympics 2012. The London Olympics 2012.

I have to say I’m quite content not being able to sleep when I have comedy gold like this at my fingertips.



15 Jan

Dear Diary,

It’s early on Sunday morning and I haven’t even tried to sleep yet. However hard I try I can’t seem to pinpoint the reason I’m still awake when the time is slowly wrapping rings around me and leaving its marks in the form of dark circles underneath my eyes. My mind is being weighed down by box upon box of clutter and leaves me wishing the removal men were imminent with a lorry the size of Rupert Murdoch’s bank vault. There was a single beacon in the heavy mist of my mind though and I thought if I chose to write my thoughts down, it could lead to a place where sleep happens to be hiding. Think of it a lot like an insane, slightly clumsy and utterly dreadful game of hide and seek.

Right at this moment I feel nothing and it doesn’t terrify me in the slightest, but it may worry me a little. My heart is sinking, I’m trying to run away from my responsibilities and I feel nothing. It’s so difficult to describe to those who have never felt this feeling and I’m sitting here struggling to do just that. Detached is a word that comes to mind and I believe it will serve me well. I certainly feel detached from the world and everybody in it and this fills me with a sense of relief. Detached equals little or no pain and surely it should make me happy but it never seems to have that affect.

Detached and incredibly self-conscious, the latter merging almost seamlessly inside me until I’m at a loss to see where I start and the black cloud begins. Why I should feel so self-conscious at six thirty five in the morning I do not know, but many of my insecurities stem from that. I don’t just believe my body needs bulldozing from the feet up, also my personality leaves a lot to be desired and what in hell’s name am I actually good at? Everybody has something they can do which amazes others and would set the world alight if released into the polluted atmosphere, yet I’m left with a large question mark looming overhead. I can’t draw, I’ll never create cuisine fit for a Queen and I can moan, but have yet to reach the dizzying heights of Victor Meldrew status. So I’m still left with more unanswered questions then I can shake a stick at which does little to amuse me.

Sleep? No chance.

Sometimes it feels like I’m rounding up sheep. Rowdy sheep who like to party all night and keep the neighbours awake. Sheep that even during the day refuse to eat grass and would rather cause mayhem in the nearby villages with their shifty eyes and kleptomaniac personalities. That’s how stressed I feel right at this moment, especially when I can’t sleep. If I was the farmer who owned a farm full of troublemaking sheep I would be tearing my hair out and begging for a job at Aardman Animations as a script writer. I guess that’s beside the point though and I’ll always be thankful my sense of humour is intact. I’ve found when I having nothing else left in life, a little joking and banter are what help dry the tears until I’m ready to face the world again. It’s only a shame good jokes are hard to come by.

I still have no interest or intention of sleeping. I’m sitting here lost in my thoughts and pondering how many people out there right now are unable to sleep for whatever reason. And I looked the word ‘nothing’ up in an online dictionary. The information I found was rather dull but “nothing’s” first recorded use was in sixteen thirty one. I wonder who first used the word and if they were on the slippery slope to sleep hell? They probably weren’t but it would reassuring to know I wasn’t the only one to pander to such darkness at a ridiculous time of the morning.

Sleep? I think I had better try before I lose my mind completely.

Raindrops out.

I Want to Shower Grapes With Sunshine

16 Nov

Dear Diary,

I knew drinking wine would work and I’m even smiling to myself as I write this. I slept for over fifteen hours straight thanks to two bottles. You have no idea how better I feel after a good nights sleep. I need to sleep or I feel like I’m losing my mind. Even the headache I have right now isn’t bothering me because it’s keeping the bad thoughts at bay.

My brother is trying to kill me with kindness. Look what he made me:

A cheese toastie and crisps. It did taste better than it looks.

I’m already tired and I don’t know why. I also still feel detached from the world and everybody in it… But that’s okay, it’s fine. Detached equals less pain and no tears.  I only like crying when I’m alone at night curled up in bed. I’ve found it releases the pain I keep bottling up inside my heart. If I don’t let the tears fall, I’m afraid one day my heart will shatter and I won’t want to glue it back together. That really is my biggest fear, waking up to realise the day has come where I give up my fight.

That day has come before, three times in fact, but I feel as though they were only rehearsals for the final act.

No, I don’t know why I’m thinking this way either. I should be used to these feelings by now. Seven years I’ve felt this way. Seven fucking years and I’m still here and hanging on to what little life I have. My chipped nails have had more than their fair share of practice and I’m gripping onto the edge of life, my feet dangling over a hazardous drop.

I feel better than I did yesterday and I’m thankful for that. Sleep truly is the master of all healers and alcohol is its accomplice.

On that note, I find I have nothing else to say.

– Raindrops