Waking up tired is a strange sensation. One would assume that upon going to sleep the body would naturally relax, the brain would perform its subsequent functions, and one would eventually drift off. This is not I, quite the opposite actually. Climbing into the warm comfort of a fortress wherein I, its sole proprietor the majority of the time should feel at home, creates a strange dilemma for me. To feel at home is to feel comfortable, safe, and relaxed in an environment that is recognizable and familiar, one in which the occupant can thrive in or retire into. It is not as if I don't attribute these characteristics to my bed, at times I most certainly do thrive there, it is just the notion of retiring, giving myself over to the beast, that I find troubling. When it is time to quit the day and embrace the starry sky, whether it is in the arms of a lover, alone or some stage in-between, I am compelled by thought to stay lucid and present. When joined by a companion, sleep becomes an even greater issue, as lying awake beside someone is very disconcerting for both her and I. She drifts off while I remain, the subject has been exhausted.
Elapsed, the height of pretension.
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