the sort of manic, insomnia-sugar-caffeine-cocaine buzzhigh that you annoy your friends with, like, do you think houseplants know they’re indoors? do you think they mind? like, really mind?
that weird liminal space as one day turns properly into the next and you’re half expecting to get abducted by aliens
fuzzy-headed, cotton-mouthed, benadryl-esque hell
i think i have broken through to the other side of tired and now possess an invincible exoskeleton, come at me grim reaper, i have seen the inevitable heat-death of the universe and have bitchslapped it into next tuesday