Turbulent Incongruencies.

If death were eternal, as in sleeping forever was on the menu, then someone kill me now. For too long have I made the stupidest most immature slip up imaginable: going to bed late.

We’ve all been there, am I right or am I righter? Six or whatever am screams in our unconscious faces, demanding we peel our warm bodies from our soft beds and be thrust into prying our eyes open enough to function on the lowest imaginable level. Sucks to be us.

I’ve spoken similarly before. In my lifes tool shed, I possess all that is needed to fix almost any problem in my proverbial life. I have a nice, full spread of manuals, the hands on tools and whatever else may or may not be needed. All of this sweet, shiny crap sits without touch, yet never rusts or collects dust.

Goodness, I could solve world hunger if I put action to it. But alas, I can’t even manage to get a good nights rest. I know better. I have a bed, pillows and blankets. Heck, even some sheets. I also have a cpap machine for a better, deeper sleeper. I’m capable of organizing my schedule so that instead of watching movies, I could get my bod into bed at say 10pm.

But what prohibits that? The desire for other things. The desire to unwind, as though sitting on a couch numbing my mind is more of an unwind than getting 8 hours of good sleep. The thought that if I go to bed, it’s boring and I’m missing out. I can’t just work, do family necessities, personal necessities and then go straight to sleep ’cause it just comes ’round again the next day.

It’s actually a pathetic honesty but I often fantasize something semi-horrible will happen to me and a doctor will give me a life or death speech revolving around taking better care of myself. And I will take heed because I don’t want to die. I’ll take a hard pass on that one. But anything before that, I can handle. (Yes, I realize I’m a bit off from time to time. No need to alert the media just yet).

True wisdom and maturity are completely excluded in me wanting a parental disciplining involving the prospect of death. It’s time I use my brain. It’s time I use the tools that are readily waiting for my usage. It’s time I look back at my reflection and feel satisfied. I want to feel good.


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