Bad things happen when I get only three hours of sleep.
I view life looking through the telescope backward, and the world is a tiny pinpoint surrounded by black. My body feels like it is wavering in space, like heat shimmers on the road. My brain gets overwhelmed by my ears ringing, and my emotions heat up for a confrontation.
That's where I was yesterday, on a trip to Kansas City. I didn't feel tired, or even exhausted -- I simply didn't feel anything inside my cocoon. My words were variations on "how dare you not see that we shouldn't have come down here?"
Lack of sleep is a dangerous condition for me, because it kicks off hypomanic attacks, where I drag myself through life trying to accomplish everything, sleeping little while watching words and phrases put themselves together like train cars in a railyard. I will probably not be going there thanks to my medications and a twelve-hour nap last night. Still, I fear that place enough that I take care of myself and follow instructions.
This morning feels better -- I overslept for an extra hour and I still feel groggy, but it's time for me to wake up and write.
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