Last night was a bit rough for me. My whole day was just bad for reasons I won’t go into. And some of the reasons are indefinable anyway. But when you’re already barely hanging on and then someone comes along and punches you in the stomach, metaphorically speaking, it’s not hard to completely plummet into the elevator shaft of despair. And that’s pretty much what happened to me yesterday. I tried to hold on, but I was just so exhausted inside. But my mind wouldn’t stop. So I decided to take my Xanax. That’s what it’s there for. And I’d barely eaten all day so it worked fast and hit me pretty hard. But that was good because that’s exactly what I wanted it to do.
But since the pills aren’t actually magic, my body became relaxed and tired, but my brain didn’t follow suit. But the beauty of the drugs is that it forces your body to override your mind, and you just slip into a semi-coma like sleep. I tried to stay awake, but I couldn’t. And my girlfriend was with me and was very supportive and nice and just told me to sleep. And stop fighting it. I don’t know why I wanted to fight it anyway because being awake wasn’t exactly pleasurable. At least in sleep, I can be anything I want and do anything I want. At least in theory.
I suppose once your body forces you into unconsciousness that’s when your brain takes over again fully. My dreams weren’t pleasant at all. They were confusing and strange. I dreamt that I was at my brother’s house, only it wasn’t his real house. And he had a baby there which he doesn’t really have. We were arguing about something, but I don’t remember what. I just knew that he was mad at me for something I did. And then all of sudden I was struck down with excruciating pain in my arm. It felt like someone stabbing me with knives. My brother kept talking and didn’t seem to care that I was in pain. I ended up crawling inside the baby’s crib and laying down. There’s a metaphor if I ever saw one. And I was crying and clutching my arm because the pain was just so severe.
Finally I got up and asked my brother to look at my arm because something was wrong. He seemed put out by this, but he examined my arm for me. My hand had turned purple and all the veins under my skin had somehow ruptured and I had lumps all over where the blood was pooling under my skin. The pain was intense, but I had lost actual feeling in the arm. It was numb. And I was so convinced I was dying that I just started running in search of a hospital. I ran out of the bedroom and suddenly I was in a bus station. I ran through it and found a bathroom. I ducked inside there for some reason. It was a woman’s bathroom though and I kept asking if anyone was a nurse because I needed help. Everyone ignored me.
I ripped open one of the stalls and inside was not a woman. But a gigantic moon shaped person that looked evil. It was like something out of a nursery rhyme but it was real. And it was inside that stall shooting up drugs into it’s weird stubby yellow arm. And it told me I was going to die. And that’s when I woke up in a total panic. And that’s when I also realized I had been laying on my arm strangely and it was completely asleep. It was so dead that I had to lift it up with my other hand in order to get it to move. But in my half asleep confusion, the arm actually fell back and hit me in the face. It almost sounds comical, but it hurt. I basically punched myself in the face with my dead arm. That woke me up fully. And then I got out of bed to shake my arm back into life. I woke my girlfriend up and she was worried about me. But I told her to go back to sleep. I was fine. It was 2:30am and I was wide awake. I’d effectively slept the Xanax off and now I was alert.
But I tried to go back to sleep. I laid there forever just thinking of that stupid moon creature in the bathroom. But eventually I fell asleep again. But it was one of those sleeps where you swear you’re still awake and just lying there. But the next thing you realize, three hours have passed. But you don’t feel rested at all. I awoke to the sound of a dog barking and it wouldn’t stop. It was just before 6am but I decided to get up anyway. Sleep wasn’t going to happen again. I could tell. So now I’m still somewhat physically drained and my mind is a wasteland, just like before. The birds are singing outside, but I’m not feeling it…
