Confessions 1-7

Confession #1:
For the past 5 nights I have been waking up at around 4.30.

This is not my typical insomnia pattern. The typical pattern, however, does manifests itsef slightly in that regardless of how little I sleep, I don't fall asleep easily.

Confession #2:
For the past few nights, I have been able to fall asleep only bcs I stayed in the living-room, reading.

This is nothing new to me. Uncomfortable as this sofa is, I remember the last time I was studying for Bones I didn't sleep in my bed at all during the 4 days of exams or the days immediately leading to them, I always stayed in the living-room. I dislike this subject very much and studying for it truly is a sacrifice, a physical one in many ways as well. By staying away fom my beloved bed I am keeping it untainted and will return to it when the nightmare is over. [It is also entirely possible that if I'd used the bed during those days I'd have simply taken to it and refused to get up again, ever.] And I am deeply anguished over the Bones exams and it doesn't help that in the first 9 days of September I will have 6 exams - and I don't even know whether some overlap yet. It could also be due to the novel lack of nicotine galore coursing through my receptors, I suppose.

Confession #3:
CENSORED CONFESSION BLABLABLA

Much more impersonal, yes?

Confession #4:
This whole post has been a veritable sand-in-the-eye fest.

Everything I wrote is true, that is not it. Everything I wrote is contributing to my physical and mental discomfort.

Confession #5:
To a varying degree, this fest has been happening for a good while now.

However, those are not the reasons I wake up w a start and some pressing question trapped behind my lips. Usually, some elaboration of Did you suffer.

.

.

Confession #6
My exams start on the 1st of September
September is almost upon us
September will soon be over
October is almost upon us
Uzi was born on the 19th of October
The 19th of October is almost upon us
December is almost upon us
February is almost upon us

.
.

I spin the questions my fingers know by heart endlessly. [Did you suffer, are you very sad, exactly how dead are you, do you know it, do you see us, are we holding you back, did you suffer] They resemble fractals in their deadly beauy and reliability.

I seem to dream of him more and more, and w increasing detail. Sometimes the dreams are a gift in the sense that he will do something specific, however tiny, and I will remember it and realise he used to and I’d forgotten. Inevitably, I will start crying and wake up. But never bfr I remember. I seem to have lost my ability to keep him alive through my words - I seem to never taalk abt him anymore, write abt him anymore, or ring is Mum or Lila, and I certainly never email them.

I will have to soon. I will have to ring I. on his birthday and oh good God the horror, THE HORROR, how will I do this, how. I miss taking to Lila as well so it’s a mystery why I don’t want to do it. No it isn’t. I can’t very well be in denial anymore and I am not - but I can not fancy acknowledging that he is dead and I haven’t fancied acknowledging it.

It is more typical of me to dissect things obsessively and word out the poison than to not want to or no longer not know how to. I feel like I'm having an out-of-body experience while trapped in mine. Dissociation, yes?

Confession #7
I need to shed my skin