noctambulist

You know the feeling. That late night head pounding that you try to solve with a pair of headphones, blasting your ear-drums happily titled tracks as “Piss,” “Befriend a Child Killer,” “Skumfuck,” and “One Again You Die.” That nocturnal urge to carve out your eyeballs with your house keys, only to eat them with a side of fries and a shot of vodka. That wanton desire to stab your brain with your stylus by shoving it up your nose as forceably as possible. Yeah, I’m sure you know that feeling.

It’s annoying.

Doubly so when you have a lot of shit that you need to get done. It’s hard to do any work when you’re glued to your mp3/ directory listing, switching tracks every ten seconds because your attention span is comparable to that of a hummingbird.

It’s late and you’re tired. You look at your bed. It looks so comfortable; so relaxing. You want to go to sleep, but you can’t. You can’t be dragged away from the computer. You can’t be pulled away from that little snippet of code that you’ve been staring at for hours. Instead, you sit there and load up the hundreth mp3 in the last hour, expecting that this one will be the last one. Then it’s the next one. No, the next one. No, for real, this one is the last one.

Yeah, that feeling. It’s been ages since I’ve had it.

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