It’s 6am now. I woke up two hours ago. I went to bed six hours before that. I didn’t see much point in staying up. It’s not like I was studying.
Over these past two hours, I managed to read about six pages. This means, by default, that I got more done in the past two hours than I have this entire weekend.
I should get up early more often. Maybe that’s a way to force myself to study. At 4am there are no distractions. The guy in the next apartment hasn’t turned his TV on, the sun has yet to rise, and the street is silent. Few people have a good reason to drive anywhere at 4am on a Monday.
There is a downside to being awake now: I have a pretty intense headache. I think I get a headache anytime I do something my body wasn’t expecting. My nerves are bewildered. What the hell, they say, are you doing up at this hour? Get back in bed, you asshole.
Nerves, I say, I get where you’re coming from, but in another two hours I have to go to the hospital. So I can’t get back in bed.
The nerves are not happy. I’ll take some Tylenol in a moment to shut them up. I have no idea what I would do without Tylenol.
I’ve got a long, tedious day ahead of me here. I don’t think I’m up to it. I always need more energy than I have. If I could go to CVS and buy methamphetamine as easily as I can buy Tylenol, I think I might do it.
Post a comment