Hi, My name is FHC and I am a vile insomniac

Dear Alice. I am not blogging today either. F***ck you and your entire family. I did not sleep last night. I did not see it coming at all: I had a healthy diner made of a bag of beef jerky strips (tearing sides of cows apart with my teeth makes me feel masculine and desirable), some Ben & Jerry Chunky Monkey and three beers (I assume you people know of the marvelous beer and ice cream diet). I watched “to live and die in L.A” and went to bed. As soon as I identified the early signs of nonrestorative sleep, I swallowed twice as many magic little sleeping pills as usual, tried to mix it with some Nyquil, added two aspirins and a tablet (for potential subsequent headache and heartburn) and yet stayed awake. Gosh, do I hate these long restless nights. I slept a little actually, 20 to 40 minutes at a time disrupted by horrible nightmares involving estranged family members, Arsene Lupin, gremlins and other foreign horrendous and venomous angry little creatures all on a mission to guillotine me. I laid there too sedated to do anything, starring at the ceiling begging for the night to end while the representation of time on my clock was just being rude. I tried to stop breathing to knock myself out and to count the people I hate but nothing could help. I even wished Ben T. was still living here and he could deal me some of his Ambien prescription. At 5:30 a.m. I gave up and got ready for the day. Sleep deprivation makes me paranoid so I convinced myself, while in the shower, that Olliver le Chat had killed Kevin D. and was plotting to attack me next. I left the house terrified in the dark. At work, I wandered around all day like a zombie with the general feeling of being completely out of it. My whole body, and the prefrontal cortex of my brain in particular, was just revolted that I was asked to carry out activities in this state. Tonight, I drink myself to sleep, enough of these natural methods.