It’s getting worse. My whole sleeping-situation is getting worse by every night.
I know it’s gonna be better in a couple of weeks again, but… I hate it. I mean… I’d really like to sleep. Sleep through the pain, sleep through the dark thoughts. Sleep through thoughts in general.
I mean… I can cope with not being able to sleep. I can not cope with the fuckin’ nightmares I have whenever my body seems to have the grace to fall asleep. It’s either an explosion of violence against everyone I love or a freakin’ freak-show; so confusing and abstract, it should’ve been part of an exhibit in an art gallery.
My medication is kinda helping, but yeah. Kinda.
I just… the weekend is coming, which means the confirmation of my sister is drawing nearer. Which means: being surrounded by loads of relatives and friends of the family. And attending church. Meh. – I’d really like to load up on mental and physical power so I can freakin’ endure it.
But no. My body’s crossing me.