westid

we take it in shifts. as far as i know, they don’t overlap. he takes the day time, there are more distractions during the day. i’m on at night… i think

alright, it’s not exactly pyjamas and a glass of warm milk sort of a job, but i do what i need to do when it comes to getting enough sleep. there’s something not right sometimes. i get ready for bed but when i wake up, it hurts. everywhere hurts, as though i’ve been unconscious in an awkward position for a few hours. my legs turn into stone, and my blood boils. not time for the vitriol yet. never quite enough time to shut your eyes. but i went to sleep, at some point. unless someone has been playing a practical joke on me the last several years, breaking in and moving me into another room, every day without fail- i think that something occurs between then and now

he’s not selfish though. anything i need, when i wake up – it’s all done. anything i can’t live without, it’s in. anything i can’t do without, it’s exactly what was written on the tin. so why do i feel as though i’ve slept all night in the bin? he wonders, with a big shit headed grin

i like to dream about old things, like watching a machine going back and forth all night or something. it’s repetitive. core. it chills me out. i just make sure it doesn’t stop half way through the night. but the timing isn’t quite right. everything just goes on fast forward unless anything happens. like a time lapse in a sense, but time isn’t actually changing for anyone- just a perception of it

“what are you waiting for?” i remember people. he talks to them. just like any of you reading who has had a problem with sleep walk before- there is a face blindness. nobody takes it that way, and if i try and explain it just makes me out to be even more of a cunt, so i try not to get wound up about it. “come and find me.” technical drawings, work that i must have sat here and done for hours and hours and hours. i was exhausted already, not exactly sure where it all comes from. how i could have done any of this – i was definitely asleep, where did the last ten hours go? well, ten hours or so. but deep deep down i probably don’t wanna know

you can’t expect someone to take you seriously when they can’t see what’s going on. and contrary to common consensus, no; i’m in no hurry to show anyone either. people have a crack at explaining me off, sometimes. but whether they are right or not, feels as though it’s either not up to me – or i’m just as curious as you are. someone else completely, not really. i would say just a more absent minded version. i’ve tried to “be normal” but – not goin to lie – not always sure i’m with you on what that is. just try not to think about it, and be in the room when i can. can’t give you any technical details, it’s always been what i am

“come back” i tried to keep it together mid sentence, but it just keeps breaking in half. sometimes you just have to stop me there, or i will just keep going on auto pilot at you. like there’s a dwarf inside my head working the controls, but he fell asleep on the job – face down on his keyboard. but there’s no dwarf to blame later on, otherwise i would

i’ve always wanted to know the big connection between what happens all day and how that translates into what happens in your dreams. or how, or if you need to do something about them. most of our common traits as a species has evolved into being what they are now. you could probably explain most of the human anatomy, in a natural selection sort of way. but how do your wandering thoughts make you superior in terms of survival? i think it’s probably a bit more complicated than “this part of your brain is next to that bit, so something probably happens that involves them both” – this is explained to me quite often, but the nature in which they interact never seems to come out of that conversation. but i’ll keep on trying to figure it out, as though everything else in the universe has a perfect explanation