I've slept for a grand total of 6 hours in the entire past week, averaging to about 40 minutes of sleep per night.
If it's not work, it's assignments. I'm one of those people that never get bags under my eyes no matter what, and I'm surprisingly perky at 6am in the morning, even when I've barely slept a wink. Sammy says it's a bizarre side effect of my sleep deprivation, that I become even more hyper than usual and I can't think straight and I become overly emotional, hysterical even - a raving, ravaging lunatic.
I cried buckets again tonight during Grey's Anatomy, then five minutes later when my fridge ran out of chocolate, then again when I ran out of dishwashing liquid, and I say everything that's on my mind, and then regret it ten seconds later. Word vomit, and I stare at Sammy with red eyes, a vacant expression and I tell her I don't know what to do
, and all I can do is work, so I go to work, and I work somemore and I work somemore, and I work until I cry again, and it's a wash, rinse, repeat cycle that I'm stuck in and I can't breath. I can't live with myself, and I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do.
So hysterical, we ran out of chaff at the barn and I burst into panicky tears, because the littlest things set me off, then I burst into high, shaky laughter at the cat chasing a flying tumble of hay, and I hate feeling so emotional, so vulnerable - and I should stay away from all human contact during this period of time, because the slightest things will influence me and set me off, and I might end up doing or saying things that I'll regret once I'm back to normal, but I don't want to look after myself, I don't want to look after myself because I want someone to take care of me. I want someone to take care of me like how I take such sweet, attentive care of all the beautiful horses at my barn, and now I wish I were a horse.
See, I said I was a spoilt, selfish brat. It's true, it's true. Oh, do you still love me now?
Labels: i will probably not even remember this entry tomorrow