Not insomnia, per se

My new year’s resolution is to not whine in each new diary entry about how long it’s been since I wrote one and how gosh, I should really do it more often. (This has obviously been a very successful resolution.)
I think it’s entirely fair to assume that I will write in here sporadically at best, and that we should move on as a culture from the whole issue. It was only me that cared about it? Oh. Okay. ‘A’scoo’.

I’m just going to witter in here, I think. Maybe I’ll write a huge life-catch-up entry another time but it’s late and I’m tired, which leads us seamlessly (and in a somewhat contradictory fashion) onto why I’m writing at all. And so:

I don’t dislike Uni at all; the course is amazing and more than I ever hoped for, I’ve made some fun and comfortable (if not necessarily close) friends, and Andy is coming to visit in a fortnight’s time to stay a couple of days before taking me back home with him for my reading week. I really enjoy it here. My problem is this: if I’m not around anybody who will talk to me and give me a chance to pretend for a while that I actually know how to be social, if I go to bed, if I am not occupied with something, it all seems a little bit bleak, a little bit futile, and a little bit like I don’t want to be here. I must be active; I must read a book, play Oblivion, give myself the illusion I have something that must be done. I’m struggling to stomach sleep. I can’t go to bed; I’m doing nothing not because I want to, but because I’m too tired to consider alternatives. This time is horrible because it’s empty and all I have to do is reflect on how I’m feeling so out of sorts. I lose the will for uni, for people, and for myself. I feel like there’s just a big empty nothing. Without getting all angsty and teenager over it, it’s like I have to escape what I’m living in order to feel alive.
The exquisite irony of this is not lost on me. Unfortunately it’s been like this for a long time now.
I’m tired to the point of headaches and nausea, but I can’t bear to go to bed, where I will be faced with NOTHING for the rest of my waking hours this side of the sleep cycle. The prospect is unattractive, to say the least. It might be hard to explain just why it’s so difficult to man up and face the little gap between bed and sleep, but it’s painful to contemplate. I’m really tired. Even when I’m not about to go to bed I have to keep busy or I get the shadow, and it’s a frustrating bedfellow. I don’t relax out of choice anymore.
Oblivion is the best escape. I channel my energies into this game character who really is living in her own little world, living out my hero fantasies and my imagined back-stories and becoming this little person all her own, away from me. Phonecalls would be nice, but in my halls I’m cursed with the flimsiest mobile signal recorded by man, which is just infinitely tiresome. And it’s disheartening when someone on the other end of the line is too tired to give you more than one word answers, especially when you really want an engaging conversation, or someone you can just listen to for a while and enjoy the “company”. I was never much of a phone talker, but I had to become one, and it doesn’t fit me very well, I don’t think. I think we might be falling into that rut again. Come to think of it, we never did really talk about it properly.

If I had people in Cardiff I could really talk to I might be better off. Unfortunately I’m really bad at that too. If I talk freely with someone it’s because I REALLY FUCKING LIKE THEM. It’s a “BFF” situation and they have me forever if they want me, and that takes serious time to establish with people (at least for me). I left all those close people back at home, and 6 hours worth of travelling (by coach, give or take for traffic and connections) is a bit of an expensive and discouraging inconvenience when all you’re after is a hug from someone that knows you’re a schmuck but likes you anyway.

I want to go home. It’s not homesickness making me feel like this; rather, it’s this making me feel like I want to be at home. I don’t complain about this anymore, really. Talking about stuff like this generally causes arguments or at the very least, an uncomfortable air in the conversation, and I can’t stomach that, I’d rather just take it for the time being. It would be nice to know I’m missed. It’s a difficult thing though, isn’t it? To ask for something like that without looking like an utter brat. Especially if it’s not given in return when you throw it out there yourself. It’s not that I think I’m not – I know I am – but I dunno, it doesn’t stop you feeling it if it’s not reiterated sometimes. Avoided even, it feels like, occasionally. Why are you afraid of verbal affection these days? I feel like I make you uncomfortable sometimes. It’s only me, right? I feel like things would be completely fine if you just showed me like you used to. I just don’t think I can bring it up in conversation again. There’s only so many times someone can ask for reassurance without looking like a real dick, and I crossed that a while back.

Right now I’d rather cry than go to bed, but that’s the tiredness talking. Someone erase this next fortnight from the calendar, that would be nice.