april fool / probably chemistry

It's the 1st of April, 02:13 am.

Last night has been spent entirely by me sitting over books about spiritism and new media around 1900 to finish a paper I had to hand in today in the morning. By means of napping I have caught up on sleep a little during the day, not that it has helped to relieve the feeling of a heavy head though - I feel really weird and pretty churned up inside. When its dark and I am to agitated too sleep I decide to just hang around, chill and do whatever comes to my mind.

I find something to read. It's nothing special, an easy read, some plain entertainment to relax from the intensity of last nights research and processing of 100 year old esoterics. Kind of an action drama story, with a good dash of cool-bad-guy-meets-cool-good-gal. It's surprisingly intriguing and perfectly caters for my strange current mood, which my brain reminds me to be at least a little bit embarrassed about every couple of chapters. It's the kind of story where you read and have thoughts like "...oh come on, suggest to cooperate already...come on, do it, I know it will happen anyway...YES" and "...ahaha wonderful, don't let anyone else creep up on her, well done boy..!" and "...aaw man, he's so obviously in love and everybody tells you he is, can you just stop questioning it already...?" and "oh shit?! no, he can't be dead now, don't gimme that, just no!"" and obviously "YIS omg this is so cute omg omg omg YAY". You probably know what I mean, the feeling when you really really really want your favourite characters from a tv show to get together and they struggle endlessly but finally do- that kind of story.

So, here I am, biting my nails for these guys and basically jumping up and down on my bed thanks to a massively fucked up sleeping pattern, various things going wrong a lot these days and dangerous amounts of caffeine. At 04:03 I get a text from a friend who was gonna meet some boy at a party this evening for the first time. Apparently she's home already, the text says "well...we did kiss eventually". So I text  a big "yaaaay!" as a cheers to those guys now. Then I pause, because suddenly it feels strange to be alone, to have looked forward to nothing but the possibility of spending a night just reading something. I feel weird.

I ignore the fact that my alarm will ring at 08:00 and read until 06:23. I feel great and horrible at the same time, I reckon that my brain is sending me cryptic chemical messages that are supposed to mean something like "girl, get some fucking sleep, and how about you tidy up your life to the point when you know what you have to do, have a plan, and don't just live from mission impossible to mission impossible for a change?" but maybe it doesn't, or maybe it sucks at chemistry, because I just feel like dancing and crying and drowning and laughing at the same time. In the final paragraphs, the cool bad guy says something like "I'm very disturbed when some particular thing is out of my control...someone". I feel like that 'out of control' fear hypothesis is pretty acurate for me, too - with the slight difference that literally everything is out of my control and that is indeed well disturbing. I can't fall asleep for a while because my pulse is too loud and ticks against my pillow, and that enrages me. I can't decide if I'm content for the moment or completely miserable. It's April Fools' Day.


  1. *not being shy, as per instructions*
    How is it that everything you write is always labeled as mundane and foolish and depressive but is always relatable and interesting, if too deep for more simple minds to grasp on the first try? (Which means... I have a simple mind?) Maybe it's contrived to make you seem fascinating, but whatever, you're fascinating and I don't mind if it's orchestrated. (and hopefully that does not come across as too creepy but to be entirely honest you've become one of those people who just intrigues me for no apparent reason, and if it really is contrived, well, I've played into your hands but if not... yay?)
    Also, may I ask what book that was?
    -The Anonymous

    1. I prefer people who are not shy. As to what I write - it's basically those odd things, pure and unfiltered, that cross my mind/flood it in the exact same way as you read it here. They often don't really make sense or seem weird, simply because it doesn't make sense/is weird if your synapses go nuts from a bit of trivial literature/a text message that is completely unrelated/being cold/being tired. To get it off my mind and make it less scary for me I write it down, since I don't really have anyone to talk to. I find it extremely funny tho, and kind of flattering that you think it could be on purpose, because I'm currently struggling to figure out how to actually live/operate with a brain/nervous system like this. So - yay! The book is a secret.
      Also, anonymous comments are intriguing, because mysterious.

    2. I don't quite know how to not be shy, but you don't know that and you can pretend I didn't tell you and it will be alright.
      And I prefer when people write like that, without the artifice of editing (I'm just spiteful because I hate editing my own work but if you hand me another's I'll mangle it beautifully and this is an unnecessary parenthetical remark and where was I) because it's a glance into their mind, unaltered by the smoothing of rough corners in order to make it palatable for the admittedly different vague audience. So I don't get your masochism in denying yourself sleep, regardless of a good book, which is something I certainly do get. And if you suffered through reading any such work of mine (if it even deserves the name) other than these probably-bothersomely-long ramblings, you'd doubtless find some raw things to question. I wish I could write pretty things, but all that comes is writing about myself, which is self-absorbed and not a pretty thing, and we can't get a silk purse from a sow's ear, can we? (And that thought has been bouncing around in my empty head for the past week and you're the first to be blessed with its ungainly emergence... you may certainly feel special if you'd like) (and here I go talking about myself, maybe you should wish I was more shy)
      Your difficulty is a understandable; I doubt many of us know how to run the body we've found ourselves in. I expect a few of us will find how someday. But please live until then somehow.
      And secret books. Aside from a nose-wrinkle on my part at the first sense of the disappointment of denial, that's good. Secret things are necessary.
      I shall remain the giver of intriguing and mysterious comments for now. Fare thee well, miss.
      -The Anonymous


Don't be shy.