I should honestly be asleep right now, considering I was up until 5:30 this morning, and the time is now only 9:13, but I can’t seem to close my eyes. Every time I shut them there’s this blinding light on the other side of my lids that forces them open again, even though they’re bloodshot and I feel like a mack truck has run me over. Wow, what a difference sixteen years makes.
Sixteen years ago I was spending most nights out on the town with people I fondly called friends, doing things I generally wouldn’t remember in the mornings. That’s the glory of the “young” phase of life, when night is just an excuse to take off your sunglasses, and when the bartender at the local nightclub knows your name. Every night was an adventure, and every morning I got up ready to go, and none the worse for wear. And the best thing about it is that I had no thoughts whatsoever regarding the future. It was this far off place I might visit someday, but I would never have to worry about living in it.
But, you know, while sixteen years is a long time (especially in dog years), it somehow went by ridiculously fast when life was happening all around me. Then, one morning, sixteen years later after an all-nighter, I tossed and turned in a bed that should have welcomed me, with red eyes, and a bathroom mirror that told me I should audition for the part of an extra in The Walking Dead. When the only thing I want to do is sleep, and it seems to be the only thing I can’t do.
So, I’m up, watching episodes of The Michael J. Fox Show, which is seriously funny, by the way, drinking coffee, remembering how things were sixteen years ago, and knowing that I’ll probably crash around 4 o’clock this afternoon when I won’t have the luxury of actually crashing. But that’s okay because eventually I’ll get back to normal, and until then I’ll treat this like some Twilight Zone episode. I’m delirious enough for it.