Euphoria.

Not slept a fucking wink.
At all.
I feel completely different.
Fresh, like a whole new fucking person.
Better than any fucking drug.
Mam says I have jetlag, due to 3 hours sleep in the last 48 hours.
I don't think so.
Jetlag is supposed to be shit.
You're supposed to feel tired, cranky, constantly irritated.
I feel high as a bleedin' kite.
Maybe higher.

My eyes have been wide open for the best part of 2 days and honestly I have never seen my life in a clearer perspective than right now.

I'm not such a fucking bad person after all, not that I ever thought I was.

I appreciate every breath that comes out of my tarry lungs.
I love practically every single person I know to some degree or another.
I have the gift of the gab, I can talk for England and maybe some other countries too if I could be arsed to learn the language fluently.

I saw the sunrise today, I looked out the window constantly staring for three hours.
Some may think that is sad.
But while you lot are wasting your fucking time, staring into darkness or seeing imaginary things or having wet dreams, I saw nature at it's fucking finest.

I saw the sky turn from an inky abyss, to red-blue like really good wine, to the colour blue that the sea is on a stormy day, to the blue of my eyes.
I saw a pure space appear flawed with white tufts of cloud.
I saw a dark, mysterious, swaying oak tree calm itself and blossom into vibrant green in the space of what felt like minutes.

And all I could do was sit and gape.
Paralyzed, like we are when we sleep.

And I loved every minute of it.

Some people love sleep, not me.
Sleep has always reminded me of death, laying still, breathing so deep it looks like you're barely breathing at all.

Without it, I have never felt more alive.

I drew Jesus, I was productive, I researched great people, I argued religion/life/love and how they manage to all intertwine in my head; while you lot were doing what, exactly?



"I talk of dreams, Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy, Which is as thin of substance as the air And more inconstant than the wind."
Mercutio - Romeo & Juliet (Act 1 Scene 4)