December Ninth.

Good grief.

My ‘night terrors’, they’re back. Back big time.

It’s been slowing building over the last few weeks, my dreams have gotten “loud” again, very graphic, and just plain unsettling. I wake up feeling like I didn’t sleep, and my brain is working overtime…LOUDLY.

Last night, for the first time in awhile, I woke up terrified. Crying. Scared out of my mind, and unable to move. Nightmode for me has always been uncomfortable, but for the past five years or so, it’s gotten unbearable. I cannot explain how many times I have woken up crying, yelling, scared, and horrified by my mind. They’re personal and graphic, and I always know every single person involved. Usually on an intimate level, as they are often people I love deeply.

I’m sure this means I’m stressed or something. I’m sure I could google it right now and the internet would tell me that I “need to relax” or “cut out the bad” from my life, because clearly the explanation could be as easy as that. Right?

Yeah, I clearly remember the very first time this happened. I was nineteen and HAPPY. They come and go at every happy point, low point, semi okay point in my life. Stress isn’t the factor (all the time, at least), maybe the answer is as easy as this:

My mind is a mess. Something horrifying and creepy has a hold of me (at night anyway). I’m just a fucked up human being?

ugh.
My birthday is tomorrow.
I have way too much to accomplish this week.
I just want it to be Sunday already, because that would mean the week was OVER.

Last year:
[09 Dec 2008 | Tuesday]
december ninth.

I was in high spirits today. It’s the day before my day, and for whatever reason, the day before is always as good as the actual day.

Maybe it’s anticipation…? haha. I swear I’m not a narcissist.

I sang Lisa Loeb to Jodi and Nadia at the top of my lungs tonight. They didn’t say much, but I think they enjoyed it:) Then Norah Jones came over the speakers.

It made me stop and remember my senior year. My friend Ben and I cutting class, stealing wall paintings, and driving through the parking lots listening to Nelly. He bought me that cd for my birthday that year (the Norah, not Nelly), claiming it was AMAZING.

He was right. It was.

Three years ago, two weeks after I moved here, it got stolen. Along with fifteen of my Dave cd’s and countless PRICELESS others. Jerks. They probably just tossed it in the garbage anyway.

The Bad Girls Club rocks my world.

The end.

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