In the grip right now. Went to bed at a decent hour (before midnight, at least), but a few hours later, here I am. Woke up, started thinking about the rotten state of myself, how it has driven every good thing out of my life, and how it's about time to just pull the damn plug already. Lots of ideas on that.
Such is the chorus inside my head. There might be a verse about ordering groceries (a frequent ordeal), or one about my poor, sad wreck of a car, or this dump I live in and the shifty landlords who run it, but it always comes back to the same refrain. Sleep is the only real escape, but elusive at times, and even then I sometimes have to fight the devil in my dreams: fists and knives against a faceless enemy who can really only be my own repulsive, hated self. Not much use, and nothing won. I just wake up hating that much more.
I think maybe I'll have a cup of tea. Sleepytime seems right. Chamomile and some other stuff. Soothe the savage, or at least try. It's 3:35 in the A.M. here in my corner of this big, round rock, and there's not much else to do.