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hot dog water has replaced my brain
"Buddy in the Parade" by Hop Along
Fool, all you touch on this turning dream
Is either gonna be burned or buried
[I may have said this in the past, but Hop Along reminds me a little of Edgar Lee Master's Spoon River Anthology??? Only because Hop Along songs seem to focus on moments in individual's lives, kind of forgotten type things. I honestly didn't like Spoon River Anthology that much, although I didn't read a lot of it. It was alright but it made me sad – it was about a bunch of small town people. But I love Hop Along.]
August 24, 2016 Wednesday 1:09 PM
I feel lost in my body, as usual. Let me walk into five years from now. Just for a peek.
I don't know how to fix my sleep schedule... I mean, it's gotta be that sleep is part of the reason I get so emotionally unstable at certain parts of the year. I don't get enough sleep.
For the past year, I think I've got on average five to six hours of sleep a night where people my age should be getting eight to ten. This may have been going on for longer, because I don't remember getting any more sleep any other school year except for maybe I got a little more in middle school because sometimes I just flat out refused to get up and go to school.
Anyway, apparently lack of sleep is really, really awful for your functioning. Yes, I know this. In a way, I feel hopeful – does this mean I can be something even better???? Shit, man.
But, uh. Yeah, I am confused by all these articles I've read. I think they all agreed that long-term sleep deprivation is hard to fix.
This week has been worse on the sleep scale for me. For one thing, Polly's dog, Guinness, always has to pee around six or seven in the morning, so he will just flop his entire fifty-ish pounds on my sleeping body til I wake up to let him out.
Annnnnnd me, the problem is I wake up tired, tired means I work slowly through homework, tired means I don't go to bed until two in the morning which means I get an approximate five hours of sleep except for it's more like three hours a night because honestly I'd stay up til past three for reasons that I don't even understand.
Also, Saturday, I got drunk and puked in the toilet for two hours and finally went to bed at 4 or 5 AM, slept til 2.
No regrets, man. Can't see myself drinking again anytime soon (I'm sure I just strengthened the associations in my head between that certain heady alcohol taste and nausea).
But it was fun. Only problem is I think, since I was talking to Alexis at the time, that she may have told more people than I am comfortable with which is lame because I don't really want to talk about it over and over again. Yes, it was funny, but at some point I'm like...??? Eh. I just don't want to talk about it.
Some people get weird. Like Liv, I love her, but she said, "Next time, maybe don't do it alone???"
Fuck. Liv knows I'm paranoid and cautious and I wouldn't do something like that if I thought it could really hurt me. I did make the mistake of going a little over the line, blame Alexis who was supposed to stop me the asshole (I was texting her), but yeah no.
I can't stand it when people worry about me. I know where that stems from, I think... I mean, I know where my hostile feelings for worry stem from, but as far as I know, I could have thought worry annoying since childhood since I was not as used to patronization as other kids.
(Listen: people worried about me a lot during middle school and I hated it, even though I should've been alright with it since there was a reason to worry and we all knew it. ?? But, um, yeah, it embarrassed me and crap and this is why I still don't like talking about it and I get irrationally angry when my parents bring up that time period in my life??? I am a very flawed human being, I'm sorry)
Sorry, I didn't mean to talk about this so long. In a way, it was kind of nice to drink. Maybe my brain had some ulterior motives because God knows I don't feel the urge even slightly when I'm perfectly 100% content, but for the most part it was just something fun to do, and I almost fell asleep over the toilet anyway so... It wasn't bad.
Discovery: I am a happy drunk. Good. I was worried I would be a sad drunk.
Discovery: I don't get hangover headaches. I do however get hangover nausea. I remember this from last time as well. Cured by limited movement, salt-and-lemon water, small amounts of coffee, and a real breakfast. It wasn't a severe hangover.
I haven't got any homework done in a couple days and it's murdering me.
I got my school schedule yesterday and also finished dog/house-sitting for Polly. She came back and gave me another hundred dollars and a scarf from Chile!!! I told her to keep the money, god she's just so nice....
She stuffed it in my hand anyway and asked if I'd be available next summer for dog-sitting. I accepted. Guinness was for the most part beautifully behaved.
Actually, last night i went to go to bed and then I wondered where April was. I was gonna call for her to climb into bed with me before I realized she was dead haha. It's weird how I can still forget that.
April used to sleep in bed with me when I was in elementary school and middle school, before I moved into my sister's old room. She has a loft bed so after that April slept right outside my door or on the landing because if she hung out in my room, she'd start whining to get out in a couple hours (I like sleeping with closed doors).
Guinness has been sleeping in bed with me for the past week, so I got used to it again. He's about April's size too, although she was a little more slender, like an adolescent deer. Beautiful thing, was my doggy.
A kid named Kevin went missing last Wednesday. On Friday, they found his body in the river.
He was close friends with a lot of people I know. Actually, he was Meekah's boyfriend for a while. Maybe a month or two, at the end of the school year. I vaguely remember Meekah talking about some emotional problems he had. I think, they don't know yet, but the general consensus is that he killed himself.
Meekah leaves for boarding school on Sunday.
I feel terrible (in a vaguely selfish way that I am willing to forgive myself for) that this kid died. The first couple or so hours of knowing only sucked so bad for me because it touched a sensitive part of me. Not even in that he killed himself, but in the fact that he was sixteen and he is dead. A sixteen year old kid who should be moving and smiling and laughing is stuck motionless, bloated in the water.
In a distant way, it reminds me of Elise and that hurt and I spent some time reading our messages and checking news reports that haven't been updated in over a year and looking at pictures. When I woke up the next morning, I was better equipped to deal with the whole thing, deal with Liv who knew the kid, without wanting to throw something and tell them that at least they were surrounded by people who understood.
Anyway. Yeah. That was Saturday, when I was drinking a bit. Maybe it was a combination of school stress, death, and a wild party going on next door. They'd been setting up for days, they had a tent and everything. Polly lives right by the creek, a very small creek that winds all around my city... Across from this portion of the creek, across from the houses, is just a plain field of purple flowers and beyond that trees.
This guy throwing the party was right by the banks of the creek, he lives right on it, and he hired a band to play on his porch and a bunch of people parked in Polly's big driveway, whooping and drinking with the music, shouting the lyrics – I think they must've had them engraved into their hearts or something.
The cover band only played one song I was familiar with, which was Psycho Killer.
I think I can be a little reckless sometimes. Wait, no. I know I can be a little reckless and impulsive sometimes.
And people that have known me for a while always get kind of shocked at the idea of me going wild or whatever since I dedicate so much time to school and I am so careful in daily life.
They get all surprised when I'm willing to do weird stuff. I don't seem the type to be open to new experiences, I guess.
Sometimes I forget too hahahaha.
My spine hurts.
I am going to try to do some homework. I don't want my heart to give out. I am terrified again.
Really, really terrified.
What have I gotten myself [email protected]?!?!?
(Either way, I'd be killing myself, is the reminder. If it wasn't this, it'd be AP classes.)
Maybe one day I'll shut my ego up long enough to be content with the stasis I fucking crave, instead of always itching to mean something.
Stasis. Fit the words into my teeth.
I slept 11 hours today. That makes me want to die but I'm older (maybe) and I climb right out of it now.
Teeth. I'm always thinking about teeth and eyes and brain.
I hope it reaches farther than writing, for once. I don't want to be stuck with writing. I love it, but it feels like a death sentence, jesus. I know I'm always changing my mind on this stuff.
Sometimes I want to look into someone's brain, just split their skull and take a peek like I'll be able to see something more than gray matter.
Maybe the liquid in there will have small chunks of meat floating in it, like hot dog water or a hard boiled egg cooked too long. Does the brain feel like spaghetti? I have to think it's tougher than that, there's gotta be something solid to it.