How’s the swollen eye? A

How’s the swollen eye? A teeny tiny bit better. The weird gel might be working.

More about neille’s health: So lately i’ve been having some pretty substantial insomnia. For about a week now. This is really quite uncharacteristic of me. I really dig my sleep. Especially in the winter, i have to talk myself out of jumping into bed the second i get home from work. I didn’t do much about it. I once heard some radio MD say that insomnia is great because it cures itself. Which makes sense, so i’ve been waiting. But i haven’t really been overly tired from my lack of sleep. So insomnia: not being cured. It’s really not so bad except that i am running out of English language reading material, and i just feel like an overall doof laying awake in bed at 4am.

Anyway last night i decided to take matters into my own hands and take some sleeping pills. They’re over the counter french ones, and i dunno, pretty strong from what i can tell. I’ve never tried American ones cause like i said i generally *never* have problems sleeping. I got these from a friend for my trans-atlantic flights as an antidote to the awful screaming child always seated directly behind me.

So i must have fallen into some sort of beyond REM trans-consciousness sleep because i had the most fucked up dream ever. Honestly it was the sort of thing therapists pray for. I’ve been told several times that the most boring thing is talking about your dreams, so i’ll spare the details and just say it was basically me at a party with many rooms confronting every single fucking anxiety and insecurity i have right now. I think i actually woke myself up because i instinctively knew i couldn’t take anymore. I mean usually you have one or two anxieties and such illustrated in your dreams, but like 6? 10? Seriously, work issues, friend issues, boy issues, my damn cat issues for chrissakes – they were all there. It was The Last Supper and all of neille’s fears were invited. Yeesh – i was gonna need to be committed if it went on any longer.

Needless to say, i was traumatized and awake at about 6am, with that sleeping pill head-like-concrete feeling, just staring at my digital clock trying to recover. Hell, i’m still trying to recover. It’s warm milk and cookies from here on out.

(What, you didn’t really think i was gonna tell you what my anxieties and insecurities are didya?)

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