I'm wide awake, as usual, and my stomach is weak from residual intoxication from a few hours ago. I drove home Mikal's car because she was too drunk and passed out to drive me herself. She piled a heap of self-loathing on me before her sleep finale. I wanted to grab her by the neck with both of my hands, wring them, then ask her if she has more to loathe. This goddamn girl... I wouldn't even need to ask. She'll just choke back a "yes..eghck eghck eghck..." then continue letting me choke her. That's just how much self-loathing she'd have left. I would've wrung out nothing.
When I got home, I prepared myself for bed (even if I knew that I wouldn't be sleeping for another several hours), then sat on my desk and committed to finishing my writing. First I read a few chapters from a few books. Then I looked for this piece that I wrote about Charlie (le bird). I've been meaning to look for it for quite some time now and never got around to it till...well now. I wrote another copy of it on some drawing paper till I was ready to write new things. After I got over procrastinating, I finally committed. I finished a poem. A stupid fucking poem, probably. A stupid fucking poem that I stamped with alliteration because I wanted to read my shit aloud in my room and have them sound pretty. ...and well, I just like alliteration. Then I wrote a hopeless, devastated piece that I will never share with anyone because it's good to have secret pieces. Then I wrote a letter and gave up. My stomach hadn't stopped growling and groaning since I left Mikal's. The sounds inspired me to cook some eggs, and I had em with rice. I mistook the growls for hunger. I still ate em anyway. But that was a mistake.
Now everyone is asleep. Everyone but me and Winona. One more hour till 6, and by then I'll be begging to shut my eyes. Or so I hope. Because I really feel like seeing the morning today.
