First of all before I even start writing and you even start reading I should inform you that this exact moment is a great example of how my life works. As you’ll come to find out shortly while reading this, unless you’re scanning it looking for talk of the band Brand New’s second album or gay masturbation material – I just found out by far the two biggest searches people have used that led to my blog are Deja Entendu and Huge Penis (how fitting, everything you find here has already been heard, hence Deja Entendu which is French for already heard, and this blog contains lots of irony, such as people looking for huge penises and being led to a blog written by someone with a small penis) – I have trouble sleeping at night. It’s hard for me to do, especially as of the past few weeks, but also for all my life. The reason this moment is a good example of how my life works is because I’m actually pretty tired and could probably fall asleep relatively soon, rather than being up for hours and hours until sunlight and then falling asleep, once God has gotten me back on my shitty schedule that I hate so much, but instead of avoiding that by getting to sleep right now I of course realized something, which you’ll come to know shortly after this long paragraph that has assuredly scared away any potential new readers because people are attracted to short bite size paragraphs made of two or three sentences, not eight or nine run on sentences that contain enough comma splices to dry an English teacher’s red pen, and once I did realize that something I had to write about it. I of course didn’t have to. I could have waited until tomorrow. But I find in my life I always wait for everything. Fuck it, I’m done waiting, and putting shit off. Of course I’m not really. It’s hard to break habits, especially the bad ones that feel so good in the moment to break, and then like shit later. So I made myself write. Granted as of yet I’ve only alluded to what I wanted to write about. But at least I’m writing, and that’s the important part, right? (Not really.) Oh, well damn.
I spent the night at David’s house last night, like I’ve been doing for the past three or four Saturdays. He’s not my gay lover. For one I don’t date Asians, and for two I’m not gay. And for three I’m kidding about not dating Asians, I’ve actually been pretty attracted to Asian women as of late. I hang out with him and usually some other friends on Saturdays and by midnight I’m usually too lazy or tired or both to head home so I just stay there until morning, plus whenever I sleep somewhere that isn’t my own bed I can never sleep that long, so I wake up early, so it helps me get back on schedule.
So I was trying to sleep on David’s floor at six in the morning – we had been up playing video games for the previous 14 hours, seriously, okay, a couple breaks, and I hate playing video games alone because it feels like a waste of time, but with friends its fun and relaxing – and I was having trouble falling asleep and of course thinking about all the wrong things, like why Annabelle barely calls or texts me anymore but whenever I ask if things are going okay between us, because, and I think rightfully so, I get nervous because twice in the past things have happened that made her stop talking to me, and not things that I do, just things in her life that she has to deal with, although with one girl in the past one of the reasons she had stopped talking to me so much was because I was always worrying, too which I explained, “Ah ha! I knew I was worrying for a good reason.” I didn’t really say that, it’s a joke.
Also I think about dying a lot. Ever since I was a little kid, about five or six, lying in the dark in my 101 Dalmatians bed, with matching sheets and blankets and pillow cases, and puppy paw print stickers all across the room, I would think about the concept of eternity and how it seemed so weird, but also about how not existing at all seemed weird, and scary.
I guess at that age I believed in God because that’s what my mother told me was right. That’s where I got the idea of eternity. I die but then I’ll live forever in Heaven, assuming I’m a good little boy and say my prayers, and eat my veggies and stay in my room whenever mom brings her “we’re just hugging” buddies over. Well we hug too mom, so why can’t we hug with no clothes on? Okay, first of all that’s all a joke. My mom wasn’t a whore…at least not after I was born…and she didn’t tell me to eat my veggies, she did, and still does, tell me to say my prayers though, and although I didn’t want to fuck my mother, at least I think not, I did get jealous of this guy she liked once around the time I was seven or something, and then my mom explained to me that me and her couldn’t be together, and at that age I knew exactly what sex was and I knew even though I liked my mom and wanted her not to give her attention to other guys I didn’t want to fuck her. The only thing I wanted to fuck at that age was the two and a half foot doll we had for some reason even though her only children at that point were boys (wow, this is turning out not to be about sleeping at all) it’s bedtime thoughts, so I let my mind wander.
Thinking about living forever was weird, and soon led me to the idea of not existing anymore. That was weirder. Some people say they wouldn’t want to live forever – I guess they probably mean just here on Earth and not in Heaven for some reason – because things would get boring, but I feel boredom is a much better alternative than nothing. I’m deathly afraid of not existing. As a little kid when I would think about it in bed at night I would cry because I didn’t want to be nothing. Now of course I cry because I’m afraid I’m going to be nothing but not in a non existing way.
My mind of course fucks with me all the time. That’s what people who worry do. They think of all the bad things. Oh, we think of the good things too, we think of every thing, all the possible scenarios, and then we think of all the reasons the bad ones are more likely to happen then the good ones. It’s truly a horrible problem. It makes a person deny logic. So it also makes a person very stupid. And while a lot of my worrying has turned out to be true, most of it, pretty much all of it, doesn’t happen at all, and isn’t even close to happening – what makes the dying and being nothing thoughts so scary, but also surprisingly less trouble to deal with, is that it’s not a “what if” it’s a “oh crap this is going to happen one day,” I mean there could possibly be some kind of afterlife, I strongly doubt it, but either way the chance of me existing forever is too small to even calculate, so I know it’s going to happen and that sucks, but it’s going to happen and there’s nothing I can do about it, so it’s best just not try to think about it, or better advice, because telling a person not to think about it is useless because that person is going to think about it, I’ll think about it, but after worrying for a minute I’ll remind myself that there is nothing I can do about it, and letting it get me sad doesn’t help me, it doesn’t keep it from happening, it wastes a lot of my time, but that’s about it, so think about it but don’t let it ruin me.
As I said my mind likes to fuck with me, I’ve known this forever, but just tonight I realized that one of the reasons I struggle so much with falling asleep is that I put too much pressure on myself to fall asleep. I want to get to sleep fast because I don’t want to think about all those bad thoughts. The past couple years I’ve been avoiding lying in bed at night, even when I’m very tired, because I don’t want to lay there, even for just ten minutes, thinking sad thoughts.
I realized I was putting pressure on myself because instead of turning off my computer tonight when I went to lie in bed I left it on, listening to a podcast, an episode of the Totally Laime podcast, it’s quite enjoyable, and I left most of the programs on my computer going, firefox, google chrome, AIM, itunes, and for awhile, up to the point I decided to write, I had even left my light on, but I hate wasting energy, I hate it a lot, even though I do it a lot, I mean if I leave a room the lights go off, recently I leave my room in the afternoon to go to the bathroom or kitchen and the light will be on and I’ll flip it off and there will be almost no difference in lighting because it’s broad fucking daylight so there’s really no need to turn the light on and especially leave it on when you’re done with the fucking room, but tonight when I went to turn off my computer and light because I didn’t want to waste energy I said, “No, if I do that it means I’m going to bed and that’s it. I’m not doing anything but going to bed and that’s what I have to focus on. If I leave the stuff on I can still lie in bed, but I have the option of getting up and reading (no) or searching for undiscovered pornography (yes), but more importantly, I’m just lying here, I’m not going to sleep, I’m just relaxing in bed listening to a podcast, so all those things I associate with sleeping I don’t have to do.”
That’s kind of crazy, but that’s how it works with me. I thought to myself the other day that it’s weird how much I hate going to bed now, when I used to love sleeping. I never loved sleeping. I always had horrible thoughts when trying to sleep. What I remember loving are all those times I would lie in bed watching TV, being tired but never needing to sleep. When I would stay home from school (pretending to be) sick I would lie in bed watching TV, or playing video games, or listening to the radio, and at some point around three in the afternoon, when everyone was getting home from school, I would doze off, not needing to be up for school in six hours, but instead just getting rest.
I guess I’m doomed. I can’t just have no obligations my whole life. I want to wake up at a certain time so I have to be in bed by reasonable hours, which means I can’t wait until I’m about to pass out so I’ll have the least amount of time thinking bad thoughts as possible. Once things in my life are better I think I’ll be able to sleep easier. I think a lot of people have trouble sleeping. I think I’m going to have a lot of trouble sleeping tonight because I stupidly choose to write this instead of falling asleep and now I’m not really tired, and I have to pee a lot, and I’m not really proud of this writing, but I enjoyed doing it, and I’m happy about that, but not really happy because I’d like to write well one day, and that’s not even that true because I don’t know what writing well is, because I see stuff that is considered good writing, and a lot of the time it doesn’t appeal to me, I just want to write, and that’s what I’m doing, so I’ll be happy with that, and I’ll sleep well tonight, because someone told me I’m a positive person, which is the first I’ve ever heard of that because I always sound really negative when talking about myself, but its not a lack of confidence thing as I was telling myself earlier, it’s that I believe in myself so much that really anything but perfection isn’t good enough for me. Perfection doesn’t exist. That scares me. That will probably keep me up (Oh my God, go away) and it ends with rambling followed by a period.