Right, so to underscore the generally crappiness that has permeated my life since the 6th, I also shaved off the goatee last Monday. I felt the need to change something. Nothing in a drastic manner, just sublte shifts here and there. Hence the slightly redder hair as well. But I shouldn't have shaved. At least, not when I did. My razor was a little dull. And so I am broken out around my chin like I haven't seen in at least three years. Argh. Curse this sensitive skin I seem to have. I shaved again, which almost helped, with a new razor. Of course I could lay off the soda and grease, but I am too lazy to pack a lunch, and caffiene is the only thing keeping me functioning right now.
"Why not got to bed earlier?"
An excellent question, Timmy. One I shall promptly answer. I don't dream often. I, instead, experience the dreamless, as I call it, Sleep of the Dead. Dreams disrupt my sleep patterns, causing the sleep to be less fulfilling. I do see thing in my sleep, but these are visions. Guideposts in my sleep to note and remember for the future. The last three nights I have had dreams. "Normal" dreams. The dreams are not unpleasant, but the consequences of those dreams are slowly killing me.
"But dreams aren't generally that disruptive for you, even in succession. What's different?"
Another excellent question, Timmy. I was about to explain. Interrupt again and I will break your knee. The dreams I have had for the last three nights have all been about her.
I told him. Holly, you dumbass kid. Very pleasant dreams. Non-sexual, but we're together, happy. And then I am dragged into consciousness, much against my will, into the cold world where I am without such treasures as the caress of the woman I love.
What do you want? I'm an actor, or at least I can be. I write with flourish and vocabulary. Of course, I'll dramatize things a bit. But it is no less true. I'm also "crashing" thanks to what could be an addiction to intimate contact. To clarify, however, the contact is physical, but the intimacy is not. For me, intimate contact, is contact with one I am intimate with. Through that contact I can feel that person's heart and soul. I can feel love in that contact. It's why I'm such a physical guy. I'm an empath. I can feel what others are feeling. It's real easy to become...accustomed to such contact. And it's really hard to come off of. For years I kept myself from it, or it was kept from me. And then there was Holly. That armor came off so fast, it was broken in several places. I opened myself up and let the flood take me. A little foolish, perhaps, abandoning all protection. But after being without it for so very long...I saw no other course to take. And it's been hard going back to a much less hypersensitive level of empathy. It's really hard at work. It's very cold there. Everyone's closed off. Work and when I'm alone. Just a whole lot of emptiness. I stand and stare at depression rolling in like a terrible summer thunderstorm. And I hate it because just that afternoon was a beautiful summer day. The first sunny day after so many days and weeks of mud and rain and clouds. I hate it because I knew it was coming. I hate it because there's nothing I can do about it. I am depressed. And I know that only time will shake me out of it.
But right now I'm just all out of patience. I gathered it all up and stored it away in one place. And that place is gone, taking all of my patience with it.
In more amusing news, however, David Willis, creator of It's Walky! and Shortpacked!, has the perfect idea for pitching Customer Service Plans. Long live retail!
what a wicked thing to do, to let me dream of you