The good thing about being an insomaniac is that the long nights means that our days are longer; it's gifted time. It also means that i have more time than people with normal sleep patterns, to spend on reflecting and pondering over the big questions in life. When in fact, i should really be making sense of all these long overdue readings. These days, I just can't help myself in making all these long to-do lists of what I intend to do when school ends. (For the semester, not for good.) It's every kind of a waste of time. But it's so comforting to live amongst plans and possibilities. This is the kind of anticipation that is so well imagined that it seems quite impossible for reality to even come close to living up to it. I don't know what to make of it (and myself). It must be quite clear that I'm not really enjoying myself, doing what I have to do. But sometimes, this complete lack of a sense of purpose strikes me as something that I have invented, to reassure myself that my complete underperformance academically has another cause other than my pathological inclinations to procrastinate my life away. This whole I-don't-give-a-damn attitude as a good argument to reason away the B pluses and the just-passes. I must think like that. Seriously, seriously, what am I doing with my life? I'm neither happy nor upset enough.
