I love sleep. It seems like all I want to do anymore is sleep. Of course, this could simply be a sign of depression; I think that's one of the symptoms listed on the internet, that and being overwhelmed with intrusive concerns regarding the whereabouts of Gerardo. I mean, just think about it: Life is hard enough getting up and going to a cubicle everyday because I used to not work in a cubicle. But Gerardo used to be hotter than hot; he used to eat women raw like sushi. Now? Who knows. Maybe he's a lady vegan. I just hope he's happy wherever he is. Life is cruel you know. One minute MTV wants to play you non-stop at Spring Break, they want to take you to dinner and tell you your eyes are beautiful, they want to tell you they couldn't imagine ever being with anyone else, that you're all they've been waiting for, then BOOM! They're onto something else, and you're stuck in a cubicle writing your name with their name on post-it notes in between meetings about meetings about meetings about meetings.
But I digress . . .
I love sleeping so much. I think it has to do with the fact that I spent most of my life as a serious insomniac, the kind where it was often painful and speckled with hallucinations. To be honest though, I often miss being awake at odd hours, rearranging the furniture, daydreaming, or finally getting shit done. It happens every now and then; I'll stay up late, get up in the middle of the night, just lay there. And when it does, I feel more like me. I feel less like everything I do is controlled by a capitalistic clock that insists on its selfish definition of my well-being, on my well-rested self, my best focused self that can make it the most money.
This morning, I only hit the snooze button once, then I jumped out of bed enthusiastic to start my day. OK, that's not exactly true. The alarm went off, I turned it off, stared this current reality in the face, and just accepted it. Again.
Maybe one day I'll be back on a path that feels more like me, that path every motivational poster beckons you to, where you're truly living the life you're meant to live, dancing on a green hilltop in the non-oppressive sun. And when I finally get there, I hope I remember how to stay there. And I hope Gerardo is my happy hype man, rockin it shirtless in summer with an open leather jacket.
In Case You Were Wondering . . .
Sometimes Ronnie D writes funny stuff. Sometimes she writes desperate teenage prose. Most times she just slams her feeble, little woman-hand onto the keyboard in an attempt to feel something, anything.