Hello, Darkness.

The insomnia is back. Admitting this occurs with any kind of regularity probably only ensures it will linger, but whaddya do? I can't be in denial about the fact that I suffer from insomnia. Last night I finally got a decent night's sleep but the four nights prior to that were miserable. On Monday night, I slept for about 1.5 hours. Sunday night, about 2.5, and so on. I accumulated approximately six hours sleep in four nights, about 26 hrs short of my ideal. That kind of sleep deficit is not easily abolished, and if things continue at the present rate, it's not likely to happen any time soon.

Which...only lends itself to greater apprehension on my part. Fearing I won't be able to sleep, and then worse, actively trying to fall asleep, doesn't exactly assist in a flawless transfer from the waking world to darkness.

That's all I want: Darkness. I want my mind to somehow extinguish itself, to give me some much needed respite from...myself. However, it makes perfect sense that I can't sleep with the kind of activity going on between my ears. It feels like some kind pinball machine on speed, but one in which the pinballs break apart into smaller pinballs each time they touch something. That's what happens, see. The thoughts will bounce around in my head, and then other random anecdotes will be born from those. They, too, bounce around for a bit, but because there are so many, travelling so quickly, I can't possibly keep up or attend to all of them; many eventually fall by the wayside. Into the blackness that exists until another quarter is inserted.

This is how I feel every day. Some days, miraculously enough, I can tone things down, but much of the time, attempts are futile. This is especially prevalent in the times when I am in the (relative) quiet of my apartment, or driving, or any time I'm not devoting my attention to solely external forces.

Lying in my bed, the moments before I drift from consciousness, can sometimes feel like the sweetest of my waking life. I exhaust myself - mentally and emotionally - without intending to, and Darkness is often my only escape. Except, of course, those nights when It is elusive.

I thought I had outgrown the childhood fear of darkness, but I am quickly learning that it has only taken on a different meaning. I am not scared of darkness itself, rather, its getting away me. I'm scared of what it can do to upset my rhythm. The way its elusiveness then perpetuates emotional instability.

The perplexing and somewhat uncomfortable topics have been plaguing me, but the fugitive Darkness has led me to feel as though I'm fast approaching an emotional breakdown. That's what chronic lack of sleep can do. It can make one feel as though there is little left to cling to.

With a few exceptions, I can deal with the cognitive pinball. I've had to learn how to. But THIS shit is too much. I'm becoming desperate; I don't want to feel physically zombie-like. It's one of the most uncomfortable sensations, especially when my mind continues to prove that it can't be gotten down. Do you think it gives two shits that my body is sputtering pathetically along? It doesn't. And that, somehow, makes it all worse.

I'm wishing more than anything that I had two switches on the wall near my bed; one, of course, to turn out the lights, the second, to turn off the pinball machine. Or at least, force it to slow enough to allow all the balls to drop into that temporary Darkness.

Shine A Light On The Obviously-Single Girl

I have been lusting after this brushed nickel wall-mounted light for about eight months. It's designed to be mounted over one's bed, and it has two separate halogen reading lights, housed in simple nickel heads, on adjustable swingarms. Sooo sexy.

I finally broke down and bought it. I went in to the lighting store yesterday after work, and made sure to look around to verify that there was not a better light to be had. I happened upon a similarly styled light, although it was a single not a double. The head was partially transparent, and it was a bit more industrial-looking. It, too, was hot - and a little less expensive.

I thought on it for a bit because, really, do I need two lights? I am, after all, single, and rarely do I ever have someone in bed next to me, let alone reading next to me. And, as I always sleep on the same side of the bed, I imagined one light would be sufficient. Nevertheless, I liked the styling of the double better - it was slightly sexier - and it was only twenty dollars more. Either one would be a splurge, so what's twenty bucks? And, I know I'll want to keep it for a good length of time...

This is how I justified it to myself, you see.

So, having decided between the two, but before I hand over the card, I approach a service clerk to ask an important question. I say, "I'm interested in that wall-mount over there (I point). I noticed that there is a small hole on the underside of the unit. Does that mean that it can be used as a plug in or does it have to be hard-wired?" She tells me that, yes, it can be plugged in, and I am relieved because I don't want to deal with the hassle of the alternative. I tell her I'd like to buy it.

She looked at me - rather intensely - for a few moments, and then stated, "We also have a single if you want me to show you that."

O-U-C-H.

I cannot think of any other reason that she would suggest selling me a lesser expensive unit after I had already consented to the double, unless of course she assumed I'm a singleton and couldn't possibly have use for two lights. Maybe she thought I should spend that extra twenty on some fuck-me-red lipstick.

Ok, so maybe it's some wishful thinking on my part to think that I might someday have use for both! Or, maybe, I just happen to have some quirk regarding symmetry and balance, and therefore could not sleep at night if I had to look up and see a light dangling over one side of my bed with nothing to balance it on the other! Maaaybe, it's both. SHE doesn't know. I certainly do, but having some stranger I've known for all of thirty seconds point it out to me is not the most refreshing thing to happen to me in recent memory.

Seriously.

I take my merchandise, drive home while trying to think happy thoughts, settle down, and promptly grab my box cutter. Just as I am leaning down to cut, I take notice of the label on the end cap of the box. Next to model name it says: "Save Your Marriage."

You've got to be kidding me.

I thought for a second about using the box cutter on my pale little wrists, instead of the fucking box. But, then I realized the blade would not be sufficient enough to have the desired effect; I'd still be left to deal with "this" AND have scars on my wrists for all to see. Then I REALLY wouldn't ever have use for both lights. Call me crazy, but I don't think they'd exactly scream "level-headed-and-emotionally-stable-woman." I mean, jeez, it's hard enough to get men to think that about you without having signs of attempted suicide scrawled on your extremities.