I need sleep.
I get extremely violent and spaced out when I haven't had enough sleep. It makes me absolutely crazy. You know that level of utter tiredness, when you get up, and you're so exhausted it feels like you're going to throw up? That is me, now. I am that soldier. Couldn't sleep at all last night. I'm floating around in a weird bubble. Everything is making me grumpy. Walking through the Liverpool Street area is bad enough normally, but now my molecule-thin veneer of civility has been scratched away by bleeding fingers. I stomp through the yuppie scum, a thousand pin stripe suits and not one of the fuckers looking where they're going. I mutter and swear at them, long insults that they couldn't possibly hear. Try to keep them short, just throw out a random fuck or wanker here and there. Occasionally shout "watch where you're fucking GOING." No, I do NOT want a free London Lite. I didn't want one from the other FIVE fuckers shoving it in my face over the past twelve yards, what makes you think I want yours? I become *that* bloke, the mad stomping, muttering, swearing one who you pretend you can't see or hear. Shame about that bloke, probably drugs, booze, personal problems, it must have all fallen apart for him somehow. No. It hasn't. I just. Need. Sleep.
Thanks to the heat, and the fucking retard neighbours downstairs - hey, why don't you have a loud, laughing conversation at 1am, or start shagging at 4am, and when you're shagging make sure you scream your head off every time, he'll never spot that you're faking really badly even though it's incredibly obvious to anyone within a FIFTY MILE RADIUS, oh and just to top it all off, why don't you make sure we can't open our windows at night without being invaded by the stink of your cheap cigarettes and large dog that you keep locked indoors all day - I seem to be having more nights lately where I can't sleep. When I do sleep, I have bad dreams all night long. Writing so much means I have trouble switching off my brain when I fall into bed. My mind races, plots, ideas, things I need to remember, meetings, excited about tomorrow, yada yada yada. One time I got a fucking drum and bass song stuck in my head. All night. It's a great song. But it's about 9000 beats per minute, which is no good when you're trying to sleep. Why couldn't I have got a shitty ballad stuck in there? Where the hell is Glory of Love when you really need it? Where's the man fighting for MY honour??
I won't start taking sleeping pills, don't want to get reliant on anything. I don't want to be a quivering wreck in ten years, having to down fifteen bottles of NightNurse every evening just to get drowsy, crumbling up a sleeping tablet and sprinkling the dust on to my bare eyeball to absorb it into my tear ducts. Herbal shit never works for me, because I refuse to believe in it. Meditation, "relaxing", or focusing on your body bit by bit just makes me want to get up and walk around. Warm milk is unpleasant, for many reasons. Knocking back a few glasses of wine helps, but it means waking up in the night, thirsty and needing the toilet, so not much use overall.
I'm going to bed now. Window open, stink from downstairs and all. If the neighbours make a sound tonight - one single, solitary sound - I will kill them. Swiftly and quietly. And then I will sleep.
But first, maybe a quick listen to Glory of Love.
Just in case.