It's late and there's no hope of torpidity.

“Nothing cures insomnia like the realization that it's time to get up”

“In its early stages, insomnia is almost an oasis in which those who have to think or suffer darkly take refuge.”

Lately my insomnia has been raging in the back of my head. It's been getting worse nightly, and I have no idea what to do about it. The lack of sleep is catching up to me, the pulling darkness are taking over my under eye area and at this point they are so prominent all the makeup in my bag couldn't cover it. My days are becoming endless and I have to fight just to give myself over to sleep. I wish this insomnia produced something productive like a masterpiece or a symphony or even a perfectly composed letter to someone who meant something. But it's not all I get out of these late night evenings lit by the blue glow of my overworked television is solitude. So here I sit alone accompanied only by Claude via aim, and Alison through text messages, and these fictional characters who parade across my television not knowing of my existence whatsoever. I had a good day today I think I'm going to visit my two friends from the city the weekend after this. I miss those two so much it's sickening almost. I'm hosting a pasta party Friday. For my volleyball team I think it'll be interesting. OH and I love pasta so perks to parties named after them.