Vox Imports


Hello all. It so happens that I couldn't sleep right last night. Which so happens every once in a long while. (Last time it happened was before my lit paper when I by mistake stayed awake a bit longer than usual and then stayed awake for the rest of the night worrying that I'd stay awake the rest of the night.) But Sleep acting like a stuck-up high class whore was particularly traumatic yesterday for more reasons than you can ever hope to comprehend. But I have nothing better to do, so I will help you to comprehend atleast some of those reasons. Which means I must now proceed on giving you a dramatic build-up highlighting the ever-increasing-in-importance role of Sleep in my ever-growing-suckier life. 

The Help-I-Hate-My-Job Phase:

Working at Green was mildly upsetting. The conditions of my head while I was working at Green were also mildly upsetting. (Working at Green also gave me the inspiration to adopt the Understatement in order to underline a dry, bitter tone of voice. Hint for the uncomprehending idiot: the last two lines were understatements.) And working at Green also kept me away from home for most of the day. So the only thing I did at home while I worked at Green was eat and sleep.

Consider the fact that Time's a whole lot harder to deal with when you feel fucked in the head. Eating and sleeping could, therefore, be very loser-friendly ways of killing time in crisis situations. Now, while Eating, as an activity, can take you a maximum of 40 minutes at a time (given that you're an individual of normal girth and appetite with no mood disorders or food addictions); Sleeping can tide you over a good 80% of your leisure time (given that working at Green has left you with Very Little Leisure Indeed).

And thus, dear reader (not), began my romance with the dark and lovely Sleep


The O-Look-I'm-Busy-With-Malhar Phase:

Here's the thing about Malhar. It sustains a semblance of the Very Important Phenomenon of Having A Life. Which means it effectively keeps you occupied for the better part of the day (and night) and fucks with your system in order to ensure that the only thing you can do when you get home is drop into a bed and die till 5:30 in the morning.

So Sleep, which started off as Phew-the-day's-finally-over, became the automatic taken-for-granted thing. Sort of like how you blink when you see a shiny object. Or like how you pee after your third beer. Or like how you lie when caught stealing your neighour's baby. I'm not really sure these examples make sense..some of them might be too drastic to really capture the essence of what I mean, but I'm assuming you're smart enought to have gotten it anyway.


The Shit-Now-What-To-Do Phase:

All people must grow old and ugly and all Malhars must come to an end. Which means Kitu must eventually be deprived of all and any agenda to tide her through the day. So now you come home at 3 in the afternoon instead of at 12 in the night. Sleeping all the way to the next day really doesn't make sense when the next day is a good fourteen hours away. So the best you can do is sleep a lot of the day and take brief naps of wakefulness for variety. Or atleast, you sit around pretending to do stuff till its 11 p.m. when you can finally call it a day. So now Sleep is an addiction that you feel forlorn without. (This is also officially when you hit an all-time low in Loserdom. A junkie can atleast go to rehab. A sleepie, on the other hand, screw it. I'm not even completing that sentence.)


The Situation Yesterday:

Imagine the kind of Bad Day thats so bad you feel like crawling instead of walking. So that was yesterday. 11 o clock was like a prozac-pill, and I really wish I was exaggerating, but I'm not. So then imagine thinking "Yay! I can sleep till tomorrow now!" but staying awake till 3 a.m. for absolutely no fucking reason. Thats a mean trick, God. You'll pay for it someday (and I don't mean that, just incase you not only happen to be the Creator of Everything but are also a Reader Of Blogs).

Loads of things suck when you can't sleep at the end of a bad day and scroll through you're phone-book wondering who would be awake that you can message without them thinking that you're hitting on them and turns out everyone's sleeping. You feel like peeing a lot, which is damn inconvenient. The extra pillow you sleep with kinda starts to get in the way of the tossing-and-turning that is a natural result of your inability to fall asleep. Which annoys you. Which in turn depresses you. Plus, if you're the hyper sort, you might just start imagining things under the bed that might strike when you get up to pee for the thirteenth time. (Not that I would ever imagine any such thing. EVER.)


So now, if you're still reading this, that's my sad story. Also, if you're still reading this, I love you. Really. Thank you for not getting bored halfway through my monologue.

If you happen to be the type that's awake at 2 in the morning, please fill out the following form and leave it as a comment here, and next time I can't sleep and I get depressed, maybe I'll message you.

Phone no.:
Likelihood of you having the balance and the inclination to reply:

  • Zilch: I got better things to do
  • Low: I'm poor
  • Low: Why the fuck should I be awake at 2
  • Moderate: Depends..
  • High: Postpaid you cheapo
  • High: I have no one to message either
  • High: I love you and I care that you can't seem to sleep

So long then. And goodnight.

I hope :|    

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