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Up Again

It's getting the point where waking up in the middle of the night pretty much means there'll be no getting back to sleep. No matter how tired I may be, no matter how groggy I feel, the sleep just doesn't come. Instead, I have a lovely time tossing and turning, feeling the Celexa gurgle in my stomach, trying to stretch out the knots in my shoulders, and trying not to think too much.

Not think too much? Hah! Fat chance, loser. With everything on my mind lately, I’d have better luck trying to teleport to Venus. Tonight's topics? (1) How demoralizing it is to get romantically and sexually rejected so regularly by men who are otherwise so fond of me (making me feel entirely unsexy, much more maddening and depressing than getting rejected by men who never got to know me better or never showed any interest in the first place). (2) But yet knowing it's not that simple, just a seductively simplistic interpretation that lets me feel sorry for myself. (3) How often I feel lonely in a crowd, no matter how well-regarded I may be, and how closely tied that loneliness is to all that rejection and all those guys liking me, but just not quite enough to choose me. (4) Hating that it's that simple. And (5) how wise it is to vent all this publicly: It's cathartic and saves me from repeating the whining too much, but it's such bad P.R.

Grumpy Sparky
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