90 Minutes
I slept 90 whole minutes last night. I am running on nothing but the blood…
I’m super exhausted. I thought about pulling something out of my archives to count as a post but that’s cheating. I have to write every day in July even when I don’t have the energy to do so. I do have much energy as I type this right now. My head wants to hit the pillow so bad.
He joked about my pillows. He told me that he’d take my four pillows away. More on that later.
As I write this, I don’t know what would be the proper length to take this, when I should stop. I could technically stop here because I’m writing in July and any length should cover it. But I feel like I’m half-assing this even though I’m half-ass asleep.
Depriving yourself of sleep is not the wave. I feel my entire bodyy trying to shut down on me. I just ate dinner, probably a bad call. I’ve been so nauseous in the morning, I don’t really know what’s the cause. As we know from my previous post, I’m definitely not pregnant.
He thought that me sleeping with four pillows was excessive for my full size bed and full-size frame. It keeps the peace. More on that later.
There shouldn’t be a later. I should just take my behind to bed. But as I write this, I don’t know if I should stop. I’m a creative masochist in that way. I don’t know when to stop, I don’t know my safe word when it comes to telling my mind to shut it down for the night.
My eyes are starting to drift. I’m writing some really incohesive madness.
Yep, it’s time. More on that later.
This is my attempt to write every day in July. To read more, follow the hashtag #wedj2019!
