Insanity is a Missed-Night's Sleep Away

According to Einstein the definition of insanity is doing the same thing a million times and expecting a different result. I disagree. Insanity is more like doing the same thing a million times and never expecting a different result. It is that slight twitch in your brow when someone punctures your facade with their irritating presence and you smile outwardly as inside the beast is rattling his cage, begging for release-but once again you must say no.

No No No mister beast, drop the knife and step back into your cage, be a good little beast and sing me a lullaby so perhaps I won't lose my shit and go insane-it's all the rage. I suppose it's the tiredness speaking. Exhausted, weary dreariness. Being nice and good and responsible really isn't my cup of gin. Not when I'm this agitated it's not. No no no. I try to stay well rested because the alternative's a bit off.

Science really is a fascinating thing. Just it itself, nothing in particular about it. The fact that it exists. That some person, in some long ago time just thought to himself one day "how does this work? And also.. how can I explain how this works in the most pretentious, impossible to understand way imaginable?" And science was born.

That's not to say social studies and language arts aren't difficult in their own right- but I'm very good at bullshitting. And that's all writing is. I mean sure, there is nothing remotely special about the writing in this blog-and that's on purpose. I have neither the time, give-a-fuck, or inclination to make this some sort of 'work of art' or some crap like that. Especially since the majority of the time when I start posting on here I'm practically dead on my ass, fantasizing about sleep like a whore fantasizes about twenties.

But I digress, mostly because I can hardly think.

“I start to feel like I can’t maintain the facade any longer, that I may just start to show through. And I wish I knew what was wrong. Maybe something about how stupid my whole life is. I don’t know. Why does the rest of the world put up with the hypocrisy, the need to put a happy face on sorrow, the need to keep on keeping on?... I don’t know the answer, I know only that I can’t. I don't want any more vicissitudes, I don't want any more of this try, try again stuff. I just want out. I’ve had it. I am so tired. I am twenty and I am already exhausted.” Elizabeth Wurtzel