Sunday, May 08, 2011

Being Tired Makes Me a Cantankerous Motherfucker


Written while extremely tired for authenticity

People who know me in the real world would tell you that I’m a fairly relaxed person. However people who have known me much longer will tell you I’m cynical as fuck and generally caustic to be around. While that’s a fairly accurate evaluation I firmly believe that you only truly know somebody when you see them within an inch of falling flat on their face due to sheer fatigue.

Now, this is the part where people disagree with me.

This is where people tell you that alcohol is the gateway to the soul (sorry, eyes, you’ve been superseded), but I am here to, respectfully, disagree. In my opinion alcohol amplifies your outgoing traits, while locking your anti-social traits in the broom cupboard under the stairs. (JK doesn’t have copyright over that particular sentence, does she?) This rule only applies until you have the dreaded one-too-many which results in you crying alone in the corner because;

1. No one understands you
2. You’re fat…
3. … Still single…
4. … and no one will ever love you

There’s a rather strong possibility I became heavily sidetracked there. Let us resume.

I think that being tired has a much stronger effect on the human brain than alcohol ever could. Except I don’t think being tired can kill you directly. Sure, it can make you fall down a flight of stairs or fall asleep at the wheel, but I don’t think it can make you literally die on the spot. Score one to alcohol, there. But anyone who spent their childhood sleepovers staying up until 5:57am knows just how totally fucked your thought processes can become through the simple act of sleep deprivation. When I’m half asleep, being dragged in and out of consciousness because one of my housemates is composing the next techno masterpiece which I can hear in excruciating detail thanks to the wafer thin walls of our house, or Girlfriend is venting about how her mother doesn’t appreciate X or she is worried about how Y will make her Z look at 3:30am my brain short circuits. Patience is thrown out of the window. Patience has more important places to be, he’s not going to stick around and deal with this bullshit, no sir.

People who know me best know me when I’m tired. Bad times are ahead if you wake me up early or keep me up late. I will go for the jugular. I will end you. I’ll insult your chubby thighs, your taste in food, music, movies, cars, your overpowering B.O, or the fact that your mouth never quite closes fully, which totally creeps me out. Your parents are divorced? Ha-ha, that’s hilarious. You have a phobia of magpies?  Pure, unfiltered fatigued abuse material.

Don’t fuck with me when I’m sleepy.


- Tom

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