It’s 2:34 in the morning as I write this. I can’t sleep, but I guess I haven’t really tried. The thought of going to bed is bittersweet. It brings with it the promise of rest and sleep and sleep is so good. Because it’s the one time peroid in my life where I’m not worrying about anything, I’m not thinking about things that could happen, I’m just… nothing. And being nothing for however long I am being nothing for is kinda comforting to me I guess. Because whilst I’m being nothing, I’m not scared of tomorrow.
This is the kicker. I don’t know if I’m more scared of something happening with regards to my OCD or the thought of something happening. And for so long I’ve been scared of something actually happening but as I’ve got better, it’s drifted more to the other train of thought. And I guess this is also why I hate night times when I’m not doing anything and my mind isn’t occupied. That’s why I watch films late at night or play videogames or go on my phone. Because when I’m lying in bed and there’s nothing to engage my brain, letting myself just, think. It’s the worst. I tumble through my own rabbit hole and I can’t stop. And I just go deeper and deeper into this place of random thoughts that are happy and sad and terrifying all at the same time.
This is why sleep and bedtime is so bittersweet. It’s the one thing that can give me total rest but to get there, I have to endure the worst part of my day.
It’s now 2:41 and I’m still no closer to going to bed, even though I’m shattered.