I'm about to go brush my teeth, and then walk over there and climb into bed. Toulouse, my cat, will curl up next to me and purr loudly. I'll grind my teeth and think about some embarrasing moments and some nasty experiences I've had. Shortly after that, I'll be overwhelmed with the feeling that I'm some sort of hideous abomination and that my friends just don't want to tell me. There will be terrible guilt, and then a feeling that something unpleasant is about to happen.
Because I took lorazepam, I'll get to sleep within an hour, instead of staying up all night in this state. But the nightmares of late have been so bad, you can't imagine. Or maybe you can, what do I know. Goodnight.
It's now 24 mintues after I wrote, "Goodnight." That's not really long enough to be a whole night, unless you're sleeping on Mercury or are a Chinese laborer or something. You know, because they work a lot and get very little sleep. My bed frightens me, though, so I'm trying to muster the courage to get under the covers. As I said before, I'm not fond of staring at the ceiling while feeling guilty about the time I stole a painting out of a hospital lobby. There are a lot of memories in there to make me feel stupid, guilty, retarded...the whole schlmiel.
But I have the 'net to keep me company. I'll post some ridiculous "facts" on Wikipedia, and "Google" images of skydiving naked women. With a computer in your boudoir, you never have to be alone or think an ugly thought...unless you want to. Although tonight, not even an idiot lighting farts is enough to distract me from the abyss.
Would somebody turn that music down?!?!??!
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