Can we talk for a minute about this kid?
Don’t stare directly into his eyes. Don’t be deceived over by his charming, adorable glow and flirty smile. Don’t think for a minute that this kid cares about your rest.
He careth not.
He’s a fan of wakefulness. An overachiever. A genius at not sleeping.
We’re working on getting him into some kind — any kind — of a regular system, but in the meantime
my God, am I tired.
Like everything in my gut is all tied up and wishy washy, I can’t focus on a task for any productive amount of time and I say
I’m not really know for having much of a filter to begin with. This has gotten me into much trouble. But with this whole exhaustion nonsense, I’m just plain batty.
On one hand, I think the lack of sleep has triggered a part of my brain making me extra creative.
Here’s a poem I wrote to him at 3 a.m.:
Here we are again.
Me, on Unisom and you,
We are entirely incompatible
from sunset to sunrise,
but I love you so.
Your saucer eyes and playful coos mock me.
“Sleep, sleep”, I plead,
Through bleary-eyed desperation.
And still you are there, a smile and a lying yawn,
Jilting the sandman.