I slept at 5:30 am yesterday. I was watching Fight Club. For the 62nd time. That’s why I’m writing in Edward Norton’s dull, flat, monotonous voice. You could try reading this in that voice. You’d find it suits this perfectly.
Tyler Durden asks us to let the chips fall where they may. I applaud. Awesome dialogue, I say. And then I put up a poster of him on my wall. Committing the same lifestyle blunder Tyler asks us to avoid.
I have some sort of reverse-insomnia. I sleep like a baby for up to 10 hours, impossible to wake. It’s beautiful. It sucks. It takes time away from everything I want to do and have to do. This comes in phases for me, so I know it will pass. Until then, my mobile will just have to endure screaming the alarm, unheard, unheeded, as I snore on, blissfully unaware.
I woke up at 2 pm. Right now I should be in Philosophy class. The most interesting class this semester. But I’m not. I skipped it. I don’t know why.
I don’t know why I’m writing this.
I am Jack's complete lack of surprise.
