Insomnia

There is one fly of stairs and around five meters to the shower and my body wants to be here, writing, instead of being under that private piece of rain. I suffer from voluntary sleep deprivation and was thinking - why am I doing this to me? Why do I want to jump from one night out to another? Why not just watching at the ceiling, lying on the floor?

Well, there is the thrill of living. And also that particular way of looking at the world by not sleeping enough; the border between dreams and reality gets slimmer. Now, for example, I wonder how stupid I am for not realising before that I have a crush on the most cynic guy I know, and that I am done dealing with my friend, the drama queen. There. Reality gets simpler and honest; when you are tired you just don't have any energy left to wander around perhaps.

So why are we, humble little Mexicans so afraid of simple, honest feelings? I have found in one single day that a waiter got offended when I said that I really didn't like his service and that the kiddo thought I was too aggressive for saying how nice it would be to give him one kiss (or to kiss the whole crowd at the P-Lounge, for that matter - damn you Smirnoff!). Ask for what you want when you want it? Not really.

Dude, I think I was born in the wrong latitude... take me back to the land of Hansen Is.