Bringing in old writings of mine - Insomnia

*These have some worthwhile value, but they have been written over a period of several years*
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I sit alone in my room. My glasses sit forlornly on a trunk by my bed. I have yet to wear them today. I type by touch alone plus a familiarity with the program that I use. My room is a wreck. I have unpacked much, but I have yet to put each peice into its respective places. The throbbing in my left temple has yet to subside, growing stronger as the day goes by. It will disapear tomorrow when I actually wear my glasses. Itunes is playing a lovely CD, City on a Hill. After all, sunday morning begins saturday night.

I sit alone in my room. I have returned from the first Chai party of the semester. I realize that I probably drank too much there since I am now suffering from the odd effects that only I seem to get. Unlike others I mearly become calmer. Rather than being a stimulant for me, caffeine is mearly a depressent. I drank too much chai. I desire sleep, but I would rather stay awake. I desire conversation, I desire human company. Instead I sit by my computer listening to music, wondering if I should return to the chai. If I retunr to the chai I will however be drinking more chai, much to the detriment of my health and welfare.

I sit alone in my room. I would rather be watching a movie, but I would fall asleep if a movie were playing. I must be doing something to refrain from the sleep that will inevitably come, so I type and type. My mind wanders occasionaly and the topics I should write about wind about, encircling my head and then pass out of existance, pushed by the next idea. The ideas come slower than normal since I am tired and not really able to be good company. I do realize one thing however...I am a much better writer when I am alone and suffering under caffeine effects..

I sit alone in my room. I shall sleep well tonight.

I sit alone in my room.