4am, in bed, insomniac.
Trying to shake off this song stuck in my head... I'm thirsty. I need to pee. I wonder if the toilet can wait. Or, in this case, my bladder. Oh, there's a bassline I have to remember tomorrow - where's my notepad? So many things to do, so little time. Oh, hello, anxiety. This pillow is playing games with me... Is it so hard to find a comfortable position?! My neck hurts. Do I really need to go to the toilet? False alarm. When will I die? And how? And why? Do people ever get their heads flooded with these sour thoughts when they can't sleep? Sure, it can't be just me. I need to turn off the bloody heater, it's roasting. I miss home... But where is home? Deep. That Pinterest moodboard is exquisite. How many hours until sunrise? Let me check if I set up the alarm... Can I reach my glass of water in the dark? Fuck. Maybe I should listen to Chopin, classical always soothes the sleepless. Am I still hungry? My stomach is roaring... I'm still too full though, no wonder I can't fall asleep. One should never pig out before bedtime. Life's too short. Will I ever find true love? I can't believe Keith Richards is still alive - incredible. All I can think of right now is peanut butter and chocolate ice cream... and I don't even like peanut butter... The Universe is doomed... Cosmic complexities... Black holes! I lost one of my socks in the layers of this bed. My feet are cold. Did I remove my mascara?! What the hell was that noise? Should I go downstairs? Nah, can't be bothered. MICHAEL FASSBENDER. What should I wear tomorrow? Brown boots + mustard sweater + blue dress + burgundy hat... *mentally visualisation of my entire wardrobe* Do we actually remember when we were little kids or only the photographs of us instead of the actual memories? Is it morning yet? Humpf.