Run Sheet
00/02/05
I prowl around this fucking house like a bored zoo exhibit. I look for something to take me away for awhile. The silence rings in my ears like crickets in summer.
God I hate the night.
Some look at it as the end of one chapter, the morning as the beginning of another. Happily following one another, comforting, regular and natural.
To me the night is something to be endured. Something to wait out. Eventually I’ll get tired enough to sleep, but it won’t last. I’ll wake up again and again to lay staring into the blackness and dread the dawn.
Weeknights are the worst. I look at the glowing face of my watch and mentally count off just how little sleep I’ll get ( If I fall asleep right now) before the alarm shrills.
Weekends I just stalk the house, like tonight. Eventually, I'll go to bed for a couple of hours, often not bothering.
Midnight, and hours yet to go before my body can sleep for a moment.
Never my mind it seems… Never my mind.