kingtycoon | Civilization is Wicked

It's always because of the weather. Anyway that's the excuse I'll align myself under- April, cruelest, the whole thing.

I couldn't sleep & then I kept thinking, laying there, that all the things I remember, those things, are they really even actual? The arrangement of my neurochemistry makes me think about things that happened, and that those things... I start writing this sentence, by the time I am finished I am physically thousands of miles from where I was when the sentence began. Just an aspect of the fluidity of existence. All the mitosis & regeneration, all the transformations that happen, are happening. I remember things vividly and they may not be so, in fact it seems really unlikely that they are. It seems...

I lay in bed and can't sleep. I mutter to myself... Different things for different moods. Sometimes, but not lately, I say: I wish...I wish... and fill in the blank. Sometimes but not lately I say I wish I were dead. Because that seems restful. I wish, I wish I were alive, I wish I wish I could sleep. I wish I wish x or y or z were dead. I wish I had a million dollars, I wish, I wish...

I wish that I could experience it all, all at once and not just this moment. I say to Agatha, walking & talking, that's our way, I say: We only know our past selves, we can only help our future selves. I Wish, I wish I could help my past self, I wish, I wish I could know my future self.

I can't pretend these are useful things to think about, or that I'm not haunted by them. I can tell you, just this, that if you can't sleep, what else is there for you? I wish I wish.