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I can’t sleep. Well, I probably could, but I choose not to. I just stay awake until I’m absolutely exhausted and can’t keep my eyes open any longer. I can’t fall asleep without some sort of noise in the background either. I don’t even sleep in my room. The couch has been my bed for the past week or so, and I just cue up Netflix and find some movie that I won’t mind missing.
Every time I do fall asleep I have these dreams that begin pleasantly enough but snowball into some horrible situations and I can’t snap myself back into consciousness until they end. Waking up in a sweat and on the verge of tears has become too much of a routine.
Andrew’s starting to get worried. I’m starting to get to the point where I don’t blame him.
(Edit: He just told me that if I don’t sleep until he gets off of work tonight that he’s basically gonna beat me. Well then.)
