Nothing to read here. Skip this. Move along.

I can't sleep. I tried though. I just sort of laid there for a little more than an hour before giving up.

My bugaboo's back. It never left really, I just didn't think about it. But you can only put off not thinking about something for so long. Before you know it, you're accidentally thinking about it and then you can't stop.

Sometimes I wish I drank. People drink to forget, right? Drink away their problems? I think I hear that. Or do drugs. I think enough lines of crack and I would have bigger problems than the one I'm stuck thinking about right now. Or fight crime when I was depressed. Something that wasn't boring at least.

But I'm a thinker, I think. We're the ones that nighttime's hardest on. In the dark, your problems grow to insurmountable sizes because there's nothing real to focus on. When it's quiet there's nothing to distract you from the endless string of monologues you've had a dozen times that end the same way. You never get closer to a solution, because there isn't one. You know this. But you think if you try hard enough, think about it from all angles, from every perspective, you can find one. You can figure out what's wrong. But you can't. And you know this. But it doesn't stop you.

It's hard to remain optimistic at night. I think sometimes, when the lights go off, the air turns silent, and time slows, I go through a transformation; My normal, slightly optimistic, realist rationale devours itself and I become a one track minded fatalist with only my one problem to keep me company. Problem really isn't the right word. Intricacy is better at describing it, I think.

A few have offered an ear. Even though a small paranoid voice tells me they're just being civil, I appreciate the concern and offer. And I won't lie. I'd dearly love to share with someone. But, I don't think I'd feel right shoveling my gunk out onto them. And they don't know how much of my patheticism they'd have to stomach; All the trudging and all the T.M.I.
No, I think the only way I'd ever talk about this is if I was forced. I was tied up, and not talking wasn't an option. So, until then, not a word. It's my problem. I can deal with it.

On an unrelated note, I was thinking the other day and maybe had an important thought. Like a small epiphany. I became aware of something, I think. I was wondering why I go so far out of the way to help people sometimes, especially strangers. People I don't know or care about. And then I remembered being in Boy Scouts. I was in Scouts from when I was little till I was 18. That's a lot of community service. That's a lot of Saturdays going door to door for food drives. That's a lot of visits to retirees. All the charities. That's the majority of my life doing thankless work because it was the decent thing to do. And I had to stop. Cold turkey. All at once.

You build up a sort of resistance to doing stuff like that. First you do it because people make you, and you don't like it. Then, you do it because you know it's the decent thing to do and you feel good. Towards the end, you're not doing it because you want to, you're doing it because you have to. You're doing it to break even. You'd feel bad not doing it. It's the normal state of being. Take that away and you're not treading water anymore, you're sinking.

Does that make sense? I think that's why I pretty much always feel like crap. And why I'm always looking to help. I'm just trying to break even. Feel normal again.

I think that was the epiphany. I think I need to volunteer somewhere. Not because I want to, I don't, because I have to. I've been all but bred for it.

Does that make sense? Hm, that's another thing about nighttime, you question everything you say or do or did.

Is it normal to question your reasoning? Is it normal to question questioning your reasoning? Sometimes I feel like I have one foot in the insanity grave, one foot on a banana, and the other on a giant monkey who's throwing barrels at me and wants the banana. That makes sense, right? Good.

I watched "Fear and Loathing" for the first time in a LONG time yesterday. Which says something in itself. For some reason it's hard to find time to watch full length movies anymore. But, after watching it, I'm seeing bizarre parallels with that movie and my life.

Honestly, I'm not sure what that means. Seriously, half the stuff that goes on in that movie that's drug related, I've accomplished sans-drugs. Think about that for a second, if you will. I'll wait. That leads me to seriously wonder what my life would be like if I DID do drugs. Well, then again, maybe it would even me out? Maybe if I did enough crank, the next time anyone saw me I'd have some p.o.s. job I hate, an SUV full of kids, and an smile on my face because I've found the secret to not caring.

Well, we can all dream, right?

Man, it's weird being here without music on. I got rid of my tv a long time ago, but I always have music on. It's a bad habit, but it helps keeping me from thinking too much. It disturbs the echoey silence.

I'm not sure if I'm gonna try to sleep now or just put some music on. Maybe both, but not at the same time.

I'm not crazy enough to be doing that. Yet.

Maybe I should work on something till I pass out. That's what worked in the past. Either that or run till I drop.

I'm gonna brew some chamomile tea.