Alexandra Norrskèn (N.S.) (lantichristo) wrote,
Alexandra Norrskèn (N.S.)

sweet insomnia ... makes one blab ...

I can not sleep ... I am over tired. I can't breathe.
I need to rest. I am working tomorrow.
Then I am having a friend over for wine and chat and maybe movies.
I can't be sleepy and sick.
I had a horrible nightmare this morning.
I dreamt of an elevator again. You know it's always a nightmare when I dream of fucking elevaors. It took me wherever it wanted. Again. No way out. Again. And my dad was there. And my mother was ill.
Today I longed for my loneliness.
Maybe because I'm a little ill and I always feel I want to be alone when I'm ill. Yet I don't. I want foot massages and soup. And someone to take my nagging.
I guess that's it. I prefer to be alone if I can't have ... hmmm no I will not say it. It is not true. I am not a child.
I don't know what is happening. I guess I am tired.
I am doing my best here.
Those feelings.
You know. The ones that make me want to disappear. They are still here. Very vivid. And I see a funeral and everything. I am not suicidal. I am not suicidal. I am not suicidal. I am not suicidal. I am not suicidal. I am not suicidal. I am not suicidal.
I love life.
There are still two poles to explore. And some of the U.S.
I'm not suicidal.
And you are too weak to help me.
And you are too cold already to feel me freezing.
And you are too far gone to see me.
And you are too strange to know me.

Damn I'm  too tired.
I need to dream something pretty.

Tags: dear diary

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