Just... tired.

I wish I could sleep at night. I've developed a recurring case of insomnia since arriving in the UK and it's maddening. 4:15 am, eyes fixated on the ceiling, no respite in sight. Bollocks.

I really loathe the night. Being alone in the dark with nothing for my brain to distract itself with, this leads to nothing but trouble. My thoughts inevitably circle around some pseudo-profound life philosophy and I find myself in the throes of an existential mini-crisis. I always convince myself that I've reached some point of enlightenment, that the next day life is going to be spectacularly different because I've worked out a new life for myself in my mind. Of course, the next morning life continues in the same mundane fashion as the day before. 

Anyways, it's taxing, going through a new identity crisis every night. I wish I could just... sleep. Or, better yet, I wish I didn't need to sleep at all. Overrated, right? Right. Ahem.

Fuseli, The Nightmare, 1781