..

The lights are out now and my mom just asked me why I sit up every night like this..

What can I tell her. I think she worries about me. I think she thinks sleeping late is unnatural. It is to an extent if you've passed out at 12 all your life. And I used to do that you see :)
But this is it, Zonk. I give up. I cannot stay here hour after hour every night till I decide its safe to sleep. Things don't work that way. Besides. It depresses me that the lights are out and I still have two or three hours to kill. It depresses me that it used to be so simple to fall asleep. It's about 12.30 now, and when this post is done, I'll take 15 minutes more to hang out here and then I'll go to bed. How bad can it get? 
Two more days and then its time to get help. Be glad. Soon you'll not have to deal with piles of boring angst on Ink and my posts will be sunny and fun again. And open to all. I hope you know I'm sorry I've been whining here so much these days..but there is so little else to tell and no one else to tell it to.. Anyway I'm getting help and I'm happy about that. 
And also fucking scared. 
But I'm wisening up a little. And I'm getting the ridiculousness of this forced staying-up. So I'll be off now. 15 more minutes and then bed. 
Goodnight friend.

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Author: Kirtana K

I paint and make music and blog like a maniac. These days I try to run. But I have chicken legs and lungs the size of two-rupee balloons. I fail. I like pajamas and striped socks and books that read like song and songs that sound like poetry and strangers who read this page. And Maggi when I'm sick or cold or sad or celebrating. They'll find noodles in my veins if ever they cut me open. And potatoes. And maybe a tiny bit of whiskey. I'll be an Unidentified Living Object and they'll put my insides on display. It will be crazy. It will be awesome. It will.

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