Was today informed by a dear friend that if you wanna break somebody, skip the drugs and torture and go straight for the sleep deprivation. Makes sense. And makes me feel better about being so miserable after three or four days of chasing sleep only to capture it in one and two hour spurts. Less like a whiny punk. Have been on the verge of tears for the last day and a half or so due to being so damn tired. Finished gathering up the last of ex's things today as someone is supposed to be here to pick it up tomorrow. (Not him, praise be to the god of small blessings.) Came home. Was changing into a raggedy old t-shirt to try and sleep. Caught the corner of some furniture. One of those sharp edges that lands right above the knee. Normally would result in a slew of curse words, not much else. Today resulted in collapsing in a naked, hysterical heap on the floor. Dragged myself into bed after some minutes. The cat curled up on my chest and licked my hand while I sobbed myself to sleep. Slept for some hours. Woke up briefly to use the bathroom and for a quick Cuntylicious phone consult. Passed back out. Now after five hours of decent sleep it is strange how intense it all seemed. Feeling amazingly emotionally stable now. Gonna work out. Have dinner. Go to work. Tomorrow is free and clear for sleep, lazing in the sun, errands, and so on and so forth. Squeeze the last little bit of leisure outta summer vacation. Let's have a picnic. Wanna?