Schleepy bear

I’m not sure which one I dislike more – being super tired or being super anything else. Oh, no, wait – I’ve figured it out straight away. I hate being super tired more than almost any other feeling, inkling, emotion, hunger pang or whatever else my body can do to me. I hate it for many reasons, but I do indeed hate it.

I hate the heaviness of your eyelids – how they lie in wait for you to blink before launching Operation Don’topen. I hate how you get a headache, or how bright light becomes more of a bastard than normal. I hate how not everyone in the world feels the same as you, so you know they’re not talking to you on a level playing field. I hate how it makes your brain simply stop… working, that’s the one. And most of all I hate being really tired because that tends to mean I’m not in bed, attempting to sleep.

I do actually like being super tired for a couple of reasons, surprising as that may be with all the hate I’ve been throwing atcha. See, for one, being so tired it feels like your head is about to just fall off means that you’re guaranteed to at least fall asleep quickly. With my brain being as much of a thinking twat as it is, this is a very good thing.

Secondly, I feel kind of comfortable when I’m tired. I’m cranky, sure, but I also lose a great deal of inhibitions and can end up saying what I actually think for once*. Also it’s like a mind-blanket, keeping you feeling strangely warm and dream-like. That’s a comfort you don’t get many – or any – other places.

I literally just nodded off halfway through that sentence.

*No idea why I said ‘for once’ there, as I tend to say what I think.

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