48. Comix
It’s not really for anyone to say. Do I lose sleep because I think too much? Or do I think too much because I have trouble falling sleep? It’s not really for anyone to say. Do I lose sleep…. or do I think too much….
Sometimes when I’m waiting for sleep I think of something. Somethings the something reminds me of something else and so on. Other times, the something will remind me of itself and so on in a circle. Both are responsible for not fall asleep sooner in that they go on for mile. Miles of the heart.
The only tested and proven method for impeding either from internal means is to break the thought, take one shard of the thought, and stuff it into a box. A one dimensional box. A frame really. And I see how it might want to continue its story into yet another frame until its a panel or two long and some form of resolution can be interpreted through the instance of a realization. Whatever the arc may be, sleep comes easier when I’ve gone over it.
Silence of satisfaction.
When the waking comes, I can never remember any of the words or images, save for slim slivers that lead to nothing, but frustration. Instead of writing or doodling them down on paper when they are fresh, I convince myself I’ll remember them if I think about it while still lying in bed. The only thin I can remember is that they are brilliant. Should I sacrifice sleep to be a known genius? Or should I be a closeted genius who is more rested?
It’s not really for anyone to say.
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