Insomnia is something entirely new to me. I don’t know where it’s come from, truthfully. I mean, there used to be a time when I’d pass out when I hit the pillow. Now I lie awake for hours and fall asleep just in time to wake up a couple hours later to hit snooze on the alarm clock. I really sleep more on the bus to and from work than I do at home in one night. I used to think that was the problem, but I’m even having trouble sleeping on weekends when I don’t get any sort of naps through the day, though, I do sleep in. I mean, once I’m down, I’m DOWN. I sleep almost twelve hours on Saturday or Sunday, I’d sleep later if I didn’t force myself up. But I just can’t get myself to sleep at night.
Perhaps it’s the meds. I’m on Zoloft now, but I take it in the morning, switching after it was suspected that that was what was keeping me up. But I still stay up, and I seriously doubt it would let me sleep on the bus right after taking it but not at night 14 hours later. I don’t know.
Maybe it’s that I think too damn much in bed. I haven’t done that a whole lot lately, but I did tonight. About death. Ugh. Nothing scares me more than death. Not necessarily mine, just death in general. The complete loss of someone. It’s one thing if I grow apart, it’s always possible that we’ll meet again or someone will pick up the phone and we’ll go get coffee. But, dying. Oof.
What brought this up? Well, Jenn mentioned that her mother thinks their dog, Coolio, might have diabetes and cataracts, which got me to thinking how old she is and how she only has a few years left. And then I thought about the age of Jenn’s cats and my cat and how we’d probably out live them all and that would suck and then I moved on to people. Wow. If I can’t imagine a pet dying, I REALLY can’t fathom a person I know and love dying.
I’ve only had one person close to me pass away. My grandfather on my mother’s side died in 1987 when I was 8. It hurt me then and I still miss him now, but I think it’s different because of who I am now. People have seen me mature more, have been more involved in my life, and, as an adult, I’ve chosed to continue to be near them. You don’t have that option as a child, but, being all grown up, I can move away or never call or never visit or any number of things. So the loss is even more drastic.
Ugh, I have to stop this or I’ll get my self too worked up to sleep at all tonight.
I know I’ve spoken about the death thing before on here, it’s just been a while, and, truthfully, I haven’t thought about it much in a long time. Now it’s back in full force. Damnation. I’ll get over it.
Praise be! 
Liar, liar, pants on fire. Seems 
Now all eyes and fingers turn towards the lady who called the cops. Was she over reacting? Did she mis-hear? Was she racist? Or are the three men lying to the police? Will any of these questions ever be answered? Will I stop asking questions? Where’s my punctuation other than the question mark? Here is it.
Supposedly it was just a coincidence, but 
