No, really. I don't have anything to say. It's 3:50 am and I should be in bed by now because I have to wake up early tomorrow, but here I am. I could blame the midnight coffee, but frankly, the caffeine rush has died down and I only had three-quarters of a cup.
I think I have insomnia. I'm tired, but the idea of going to bed is repulsive. I don't want the night to end. This xkcd comic (by the way, I'm not a computer nerd but why is this the best comic ever? Like it's legitimately art. I don't know how he manages to be funny and poignant, sometimes in a single frame, and it's sites like this that make me so glad to have Stumble) sums it up, sort of. Sleeping is scary. It's losing control; it's hours spent in a confined space; it's the end of a day, but I kind of don't want this day to end, like something amazing will maybe happen in just five more minutes if I stay up, and most often that something ends up being me watching that episode of South Park where Stan's dog is gay, but whatever it's funny and I love Big Gay Al and that show has changed so much since the early seasons, and I remember once my babysitter let me watch an episode and I thought I was such a badass and so cool but I was disappointed by the lack of nudity or profanity in the episode, because I was too young to realize that mature themes don't always mean "he said the f-word!" and I casually referenced the episode to all my friends the next day even when it didn't make sense in conversation.
Also, my Old Navy clearance-sale Christmas pajama pants have a huge hole in the crotch (surprise, surprise), and I didn't realize that when I went down to get my sushi delivery order this afternoon, so a few lucky residents of the Second Street dorm got to see what color boxers I was wearing today.
There is nothing more depressing than an empty bowl of ramen on a dirty wooden desk.