There's something about New Jersey and insomnia
I don't know what it is.... it seems like every time I come back to New Jersey I can't sleep. I don't know whether I feel like I'm wasting time, or there's just something I need to do.... but I sit here at my parents house on their computer and think I could be at my house either studying or hanging with friends until I literally can't stay awake any longer. I don't like being alone.
My cat's dead now so I don't even have a late night buddy. 16 good years he's kept me from being alone, helped me through panic attacks and on a few occassions probably kept me from killing myself back in the good old early days of my craziness. I never got a chance to say goodbye. My parents had him put down and didn't tell me he was even sick until after the fact. To put it simply... I was pissed. I cried and drank, and cried while I drank. I celebrated his life by dedicating every shot I took on the beer pong table to him the night I heard he died and was dragged out to a party by my friends minutes after I ran to the backyard to cry hysterically but make sure nobody saw me. I'm not good with death, mostly because I've never had to deal with it in my life, luckily and not so luckily. I'm 23 and before my cat the closest person to me to ever kick the bucket was my best friends grandma. I cried because she was great and I loved her.... but there still wasn't that close connection you have with the super close people in your life. We'll all die, all the ones we love, and hopefully us before the ones we love the most.... but still damn..... Since I've never had to really deal with it I've never built up coping mechanisms for dealing with death. I'll probably have another psychotic episode and end up 400 miles from where I last remember blinking my eyes when my grandma or parents go. Scary. Oh well... I had two bad days and I'm feeling alright now. By the way, although everytime I dedicated every shot on the table to Rusty and was choking back tears among a party of crazy drunk people.... I sank it and did him a solid. Well at least a good 75% of them or so.
Yeah though, something about this state and this house. Living in the city has just given me sensory overload. I'm really freaked out that I can hear the hum of the computer because there's no noise in the house, or the white trash Kenzos screaming at each other outside, or the sound of regular traffic. It's relaxing but disconcerting at the same time. I don't think I can sleep with silence anymore. I'm not tired because I'm manic and have only had about 6 or 7 beers today and it was barely enough to catch a buzz since it's not the heavy dark beer we've been drinking. Even if I do sleep when I'm all hyped up I don't sleep well.... so there's no point in crashing early, even though I have to wake up early as hell to go back to Philly so I can get my stuff together to go to class..... I wish I could leave tonight. I hate the bed they put in my old room. I'm used to mine now... and used to falling asleep to the Simpsons or Dead Like Me on Hulu, or the tired but awesome go to sleep mix I havn't really changed in the past year. I'd pull an all nighter if I didn't start hallucinating so bad at work the last time I did.
Daydreams of crossing the Ben Franklin are making me smile now. It was good to see the parents even if they put down my brother without letting me know, and yeah I'm sill pissed.... but it was good to see them, I don't visit enough. It was good chilling with Brett and Sean, and watching the Phillies win, but damn..... I want to sleep in my own bed. I want to feel like if I hit the sheets I'll be able to get to sleep.
My cat's dead now so I don't even have a late night buddy. 16 good years he's kept me from being alone, helped me through panic attacks and on a few occassions probably kept me from killing myself back in the good old early days of my craziness. I never got a chance to say goodbye. My parents had him put down and didn't tell me he was even sick until after the fact. To put it simply... I was pissed. I cried and drank, and cried while I drank. I celebrated his life by dedicating every shot I took on the beer pong table to him the night I heard he died and was dragged out to a party by my friends minutes after I ran to the backyard to cry hysterically but make sure nobody saw me. I'm not good with death, mostly because I've never had to deal with it in my life, luckily and not so luckily. I'm 23 and before my cat the closest person to me to ever kick the bucket was my best friends grandma. I cried because she was great and I loved her.... but there still wasn't that close connection you have with the super close people in your life. We'll all die, all the ones we love, and hopefully us before the ones we love the most.... but still damn..... Since I've never had to really deal with it I've never built up coping mechanisms for dealing with death. I'll probably have another psychotic episode and end up 400 miles from where I last remember blinking my eyes when my grandma or parents go. Scary. Oh well... I had two bad days and I'm feeling alright now. By the way, although everytime I dedicated every shot on the table to Rusty and was choking back tears among a party of crazy drunk people.... I sank it and did him a solid. Well at least a good 75% of them or so.
Yeah though, something about this state and this house. Living in the city has just given me sensory overload. I'm really freaked out that I can hear the hum of the computer because there's no noise in the house, or the white trash Kenzos screaming at each other outside, or the sound of regular traffic. It's relaxing but disconcerting at the same time. I don't think I can sleep with silence anymore. I'm not tired because I'm manic and have only had about 6 or 7 beers today and it was barely enough to catch a buzz since it's not the heavy dark beer we've been drinking. Even if I do sleep when I'm all hyped up I don't sleep well.... so there's no point in crashing early, even though I have to wake up early as hell to go back to Philly so I can get my stuff together to go to class..... I wish I could leave tonight. I hate the bed they put in my old room. I'm used to mine now... and used to falling asleep to the Simpsons or Dead Like Me on Hulu, or the tired but awesome go to sleep mix I havn't really changed in the past year. I'd pull an all nighter if I didn't start hallucinating so bad at work the last time I did.
Daydreams of crossing the Ben Franklin are making me smile now. It was good to see the parents even if they put down my brother without letting me know, and yeah I'm sill pissed.... but it was good to see them, I don't visit enough. It was good chilling with Brett and Sean, and watching the Phillies win, but damn..... I want to sleep in my own bed. I want to feel like if I hit the sheets I'll be able to get to sleep.