astronaut ambition

goodnight sweetheart

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Thu Jul 20 00 / 2:40 AM

I wonder if I'm depressed; but then I think that if I really am wondering, I'm probably not. I'm one moody son of a bitch.

I sleep long hours but wake up tired. This tired is a lump in my lungs that pulls down on my shoulders and head. Dense with gravity and grave.

When the alarm rings in the morning, the first thing I feel is a profound sadness. It's not intentional; it seems merely a primordial conscious thought fired at the instant of waking.

But why would I be sad? I love to be awake, hate to have to sleep. There must be something there, in the folds of my pinkgray matter, that I hold onto while sleeping, but must let go of while awake. A child removed from a parent embrace, a near-adult removed from the guilty pleasure of not having to bother to exist.

Me, obsessed with not having enough life time, would never consider dying. But still; those short sleepy moments - where one doesn't need or is needed, where one doesn't have to succumb to the pressure of being alive - are so desirous.

My living life is so full of never doing enough that to do nothing every day or so seems to be one of the unwanted afflictions of man. Well, evolution is a tricky bastard, because once I close my eyes, the little death is all I want.

And lately, I don't even have to close my eyes.

</>

Lisa Higgs

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*goodnight sweetheart*
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latest archive about email links yearbook japan photoblog wish list	Thu Jul 20 00 / 2:40 AM I wonder if I'm depressed; but then I think that if I really am wondering, I'm probably not. I'm one moody son of a bitch. I sleep long hours but wake up tired. This tired is a lump in my lungs that pulls down on my shoulders and head. Dense with gravity and grave. When the alarm rings in the morning, the first thing I feel is a profound sadness. It's not intentional; it seems merely a primordial conscious thought fired at the instant of waking. But why would I be sad? I love to be awake, hate to have to sleep. There must be something there, in the folds of my pinkgray matter, that I hold onto while sleeping, but must let go of while awake. A child removed from a parent embrace, a near-adult removed from the guilty pleasure of not having to bother to exist. Me, obsessed with not having enough life time, would never consider dying. But still; those short sleepy moments - where one doesn't need or is needed, where one doesn't have to succumb to the pressure of being alive - are so desirous. My living life is so full of never doing enough that to do nothing every day or so seems to be one of the unwanted afflictions of man. Well, evolution is a tricky bastard, because once I close my eyes, the little death is all I want. And lately, I don't even have to close my eyes.
	</>
Lisa Higgs
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