we begin, perhaps

It's late at night again, hours past the time i designated as bedtime so as not to sleep through class in the morning. I don't like being awake this late, especially by myself, because the thinking starts creeping in and there's no way to avoid it. I can't turn on the TV or put on headphones to try to divert my own attention, because then i'll never get to sleep, and every biological cycle i have will be off. Some people can do it, some people fall asleep to music playing lightly, a lullaby reassuring them that the ghouls are at bay so long as you pay them no attention. I lack this ability, if music is on i'm listening to it, i involuntarily hear every bit and follow along and pay attention. Focusing on anything keeps you awake, you can't fall asleep if you're interested in what's going on within your scope of perception. I'll set the sleep timer on whatever music-playing tool i'm employing and try to drift off, but my mind follows along and sleep waits patiently outside. I'm spewing out sentences now, not an actual essay or whatever you want to call it, but if anything's going to be said it'll be said as it comes, maybe later i can mesh it all together and have something real and coherent. That's a major problem when i try to write down things, in my head it sounds absolutely wonderful and eloquent and perfect but when i try to write it down i lose the wording, the feeling, the flow, even if i just try to speak into a recorder. Another thing, i get off track and lose my sin curve of thought.
So here i lay, buried in a few hours of wasted sleep, and the negative half of everything has taken over. Nothing pleasant ever occurs to me at night, i never ponder any great or important thing i've done, and indeed can't even list what they are. I just, this moment, learned something else about posting here; i'm directing at an audience, and that's a bad idea. I'm writing with the idea that it will be read, and that changes the format entirely. This way i explain things. That's not how it goes in my brain, things flow and wow me as i listen and half the time i don't know what's behind it so why should i cheapen it when that's what people want to here? I think i might cut this one short now, and try again later without trying to make it comprehensible.

Things we find wonderful often only are so because we don't understand them.

I'll never explain myself again.