I don't feel like doing anything. I yawn deeply as the urge to surrender to nothingness, to sleep, takes over.
Oh, I wish I could go to sleep right now. Why can't I? Oh yes, because of mother's weight. I can't just go because, in theory, I'm pushing the limits of time. Which is a lie.
The truth is, I'm tired of repeating the same thing. I also have another worry on my mind. In a few days, I'll have some very important tests that could change my life. Depending on the results, I'll see if the decision I made back then was truly an impulse worth telling anecdote about, or if I'll be a rare and very unlucky case.
I feel especially weak. You can probably tell from some of the content I've created. But I really don't want to do anything. I don't like this feeling. I would describe it as a kind of heaviness or gentle pricking in my head, where I yawn and stare at the screen for a long time. Because I can't think of anything to do. I don't even want to think about the final project. I really want to lie down and sleep a little. But that's almost impossible; I don't feel safe.
The only room is small, and Mom has to do her rehabilitation exercises there because the pain hasn't completely gone away (and it seems like it never will). Seeing as she might criticize me at any moment and ruin my night, I prefer to stay, even if it's just pretending to do something, so she falls asleep and I can get as close as possible to the state of "sleeping alone among my thoughts" without fear of irrelevant criticism. But with those exercises and Mom's light sleep (why are the adults I know like that, with restless sleep? They wake up at the slightest noise).
I don't want to think about bleak realities.
Aaagh, I want to sleep.
I think I'll try to bury my head in the pillow a little before she comes down from the terrace.
I forgot to sweep the floor outside. So it's covered in dust. Why haven't you swept? Didn't I tell you perfectly?
"I don't think my pajamas are shaken out. Did you shake them out?"
No, honestly, I didn't. I always forget.
I told her I had, anyway. I'm sure she'll see when she comes in that they're not because for some reason they itch a lot if they're not shaken out properly. I don't know why I don't tell her the truth. Oh right, because if I do, she'll yell at me. Although she's right, all of this is proof that I'm incompetent, and besides.
It would be good if I forgot because I'm putting a lot of effort into the final project.
No, actually, I spent the time watching reels and little else. Making some really bad art for Tumblr.
I just want to close my eyes. Sometimes I wonder if I don't actually want to close them permanently. I mean, close them and stay in that state of unconsciousness forever. There's something beautiful about sleep, especially when you first start to drift off, and that's the darkness you see with your eyes closed. There's no color, but that's what's beautiful about it. The absence of color.
There are no thoughts. And if there are, well, in my case, I can sleep and watch them fade away. And I hope I can continue to do that. A future or reality with insomnia or something similar would terrify me; I couldn't live. How would I escape reality in that case?
I'm glancing at this text with my hand on my forehead. Sleepiness seems to be intensifying. I want to go to bed and retreat into the darkness. But I can't; Mother is still active. I thought writing something would revive me. But it seems I really don't want to keep writing.
I tried reading an article from another organization to make a new drawing, but... now I find it so tedious to read and look at the diagrams and micrographs. Well, the same thing that happens to me with everything. Procrastination, and as soon as things seem to get too complicated, I give up despite the terrible consequences. Like what's happening with my final project; I'm sure that won't end well.
My desire to keep drawing is dead... I won't say "for now" because I'm not sure when I'll pick it up again, or if I'll even pick it up again. Because... I don't know. I can't find the desire or the inspiration, so... I can say that I've lost something that kept me awake.
I wish I could sleep without guilt.
And remain embraced by the darkness of a very low consciousness.
To feel comfortable forever.
While I distantly listen to arguments that will no longer interest me.
Because I would have become an inanimate entity a long time ago.
