poetic confessions of an insomniac

Who needs sleep when your morning shift begins at 6 a.m.? Apparently not me. Completely wide awake after a 10 hour work day and an extremely short amount of time to rest up for the 13-hour day ahead of me.

Every noise is like an air horn when the one thing you need is silence to force your self to drift off into a semi-coma in order to give the illusion of well-restedness the next morning.

After asking the other members of the house (who do not have to be up before the sun rises, by the way) to shut off the incessant repetition of the menu from a scary movie they finished, they fail to complete the simplest of tasks.

I wouldn’t have known it was a scary movie, only for the fact that I had to shut off the pathetic soundtrack loop that sounded more like a cat dying than something that would cause me to fear the contents of the film.

And now that the sound from below has been silenced, sleep still evades me due to muffled, loud dialogue from people who should already be asleep. Conversations drift from farting to who knows what because I simply do not care, except that I can hear it.

I have 4 hours and 30 minutes to snuggle with my teddy bear named Jasper, but that does not matter because by the time I fall asleep there will be far less minutes and hours to spend away from getting paid an hourly rate.

I will most likely offend someone with the publication of this post, but does it truly matter when they offended me with their sound?


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