I have lost count of the men that have called me 'Sweet Pea' in my lifetime. I don't think I resemble a leafy pink blossomed plant, but who am I to really say. I spend so little time on my appearance as of late, that I am certain it is affecting my ability to secure a job. I'm sure I look so ordinary. Maybe Ordinary can be good. Who knows.

I read a few other blogs on this dusty old internet. They make me realise that some people just don't care for me as much as I care for them. Reading that sentence back, it sounds so pathetic, but it's a reality. I feel my edges slowly returning to the sharpness they once held. Maybe it's the Fall weather...all crisp mornings and crackling leaves. Little trick or treaters that are seen running from house to house.

Those sharp edges make me talk faster, my ideas so vivid and colourful in my mind that they are in a rush to burst forth like confetti. They make me tear around the apartment in underwear and a sweater, rushing to get from place to place, no rest. No rest.

When I was in the hospital, people cared whether or not I slept. I was constantly asked if I was sleeping and if so, or if not, for how long. And then they would do everything they could to see that I slept more, and better. In the outside world, it's a whole other story. No one really cares for insomniacs. Everyone thinks it's just laziness, or perhaps the complainant is merely searching for attention (as if the way to go about seeking attention is to pretend you can't sleep...heh, pretend). These days, sleep is not as elusive as it had once been. Mostly due to medication. You get the right mix, and Hotchya! sleep action.

Funnily enough, I still aspire to be like everyone else and have the power to fall asleep after lying in bed for a mere 15 minutes.

I guess in the end, I do just want to be like everyone else.

Labels: sleep