Another 3 AM Ramble

Well... sleep is overrated anyway, isn't it?

It's February without I could even realize it. I could have sworn I already had my blog post draft of wishing you all a happy new year, and that I spent it looking at fireworks blah blah, and look where we are now. The second month. With the USA almost at war with Iran, the novel-coronavirus epidemy, and the helicopter accident. Wow.

For the first time in almost ever, I was kept awake after midnight. It's probably because of my flu that I practically spent the whole day sleeping yesterday. It might be the medicine. It's possibly because right now I have someone hoarding my space in bed. And I'm glad. Truly, I am.

There are moments in life where I just miss this nocturnal idleness, the producing unproductiveness, the romance of late-night lo-fi vibe. The curtain's drawn, the windows closed, the lights are out, the soft background music is playing, and you're just... still there. Mind wandering faster than the speed of sound, with more clutter than Einstein's desk.

It's always like that, isn't it. When you realize that the clock is ticking, your heart is beating, and your nose is breathing, you left a piece of soul in the past and inhale a part to your future. Some things you just want to touch, just a tad out of reach. The silly ideas, the pipedreams. Ones I'm too young to understand yet too old to attend.

You could be anywhere right now, my mind whispers. You could be doing anything right now.

It could be wonderful if I'm chilling on a beach right now, listening to this. I could slow dance until someone find me and laugh at me and it could be the start of a wonderful friendship.

But you have to get up early tomorr- er, this morning. Start dozing off, pronto, or you will miss the morning class again!

But it's been so long since I have the muse to daydream like this- let me just-

Come on, you've promised yourself to be functional this time...

I did, I did, but I just slept everything away yesterday, I don't feel like sleeping tonight...

Talking with myself didn't exactly help the insomnia situation, because in the end I didn't sleep anyway. I started thinking more and more things.

The long-drawn line of regrets that stretched out. Who I was, who I never was, who I could be, and who I would never be. Worrying about where I stand among my friends, where I should sit in this classroom of productive demography. It's a homework that never gets done, and looks like one I'm going to postpone until I reach my deathbed, sweating bullets until I drain because deadliners never learn.

I was optimistic, then I got discouraged. Awake past three in the morning lying in the darkness with your eyes open, whirring yourself in your own emotional rollercoaster.

I wonder how turkey sandwich tastes like.

Sometimes it maddens me how I could produce ramblings like this in such a short amount of time, while in any other day it burdens me to even try and think of writing, when this is supposed to be my therapy. For any rambles and posts that I make, I spend in average two months of hating myself for not being able to make practically anything.

I began second-guessing myself, am I doing anything wrong? 
Am I just capable of ramble-writings and not any serious literature / script? 
Have I just been overestimating my writing skill? 
Am I legit? 
Or am I too hard on myself, that I couldn't appreciate the small things?

If only I was alone, I could just shout "Hey Google"

*bleep*

"How to appreciate yourself more"

Ah, yeah. I've been keeping Google gadget as my primary device now. Pretty slick. I should tell you about her sometime.