Whyfukcantiwakupia
April 23rd, 2002, 10:34 a.m.

earlier / later

Many apologies for the lack of updatedness recently. Life is spinning like an industrial clothes dryer and I'm the renegade sock stuck by static and centrifugal force to the inside. It's going to spit me out somewhere and I don't know where, but lets hope it's somewhere good.

I have a sleep disorder. Not one of those pussy ones like not-being-able-to-sleep. I have one of those good ones like not-being-able-to-wake-up. I have four alarm clocks, an alarm program on my PC, and a wake function on my TV, yet I still sleep through it all. A chain of garbage trucks could come barreling through my room and I'd sleep through it as I dreamt of something silly like chasing down shoplifters in a mall. Some might call it Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, others a Circadian Rhythm disorder, I call it the WHY-THE-FUCK-CAN'T-I-WAKE-UP disease.

I've battled with WHYFUCANTIWAKUPia since I was a small boy. My stepmom used to pound on my door for ten minutes before I'd wake up to realize I was late for the waytooearly start of highschool.

Nevertheless, the only time I've been able to sleep lightly is when I'm sleeping with someone; which is a good experience in and of itself usually. Also, if I am sleeping with someone and I do fall into WHYFUCCANTIWAKUPia then she can invariably wake me up as she will be woken by the four alarm clocks blaring upwards of 140 decibels.

So, without someone to share my bed with regularly I am left with little alternatives. Sometimes I guess there just aren't enough alarm clocks. Peace.

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