i cant believe its daylight savings time and i havent seen the “hello its me your cousin oskaar from iceland” video on my dash yet you are all slackers
i guess i have to do all the work around here dont i
12+ hours: hell yes. decadence has a name and it is ME. the dream. im marrying my bed you’re invited to the wedding. i might feel groggy and angry for the rest of the day when i actually do get up but WORTH IT.
12+ hours (ALTERNATE): i am deeply clinically depressed and approximately three (3) inches from death at any given moment
11-10 hours: ideal. im functioning at perfect 100% capacity my body and mind are a well oiled machine. im ready to knock out all my errands and chores in under an hour, work a full day and then study that language im trying to learn
9 hours: good! i could have slept longer, but getting up was no great horrifying trauma either
8-7 hours: the “””””medically recommended amount””””” for adults, but in reality more like a “fine, i GUESS” amount. normal mild levels of angst at having to get out of bed
6 hours: silent unceasing internal groaning for at least the first hour after waking. dont expect any kind of quality conversation for the first 2 or so hours. ive got a Less Than Medically Recommended Amount Of Sleep, that means im a martyr right???
5 hours: pretty unpleasant. feels gross. expect a moderate crash during the late afternoon. this is the first number that is considered worthy of entry in a college student sleep-measuring contest. altho if you try to enter with 5 hrs dead-eyed hordes will instantly materialize from the bushes and one-up you “5 hours??? HAHA SWEET SUMMER CHILD. I HAVENT SLEPT IN 3 YEARS”
4 hours: a Very Poor Decision. deep seated, incoherent rage upon waking that persists up to several hours. consume large amounts of your stimulant of choice, but you’ll still feel like a cave troll. constant aftertaste of chemicals and regret
3 hours: half awake half walking in some astral plane haunted by the wails of the newly-dead. children and animals fear the emptiness in your vacant eyes. a very respectable entry to any sleep-measuring contest. you’ll still get beaten by the “2 hour” and “all nighter” people, but everyone knows this is Bad
2 hours: you can get up, but only by rending your soul from your physical body in a paroxysm of agony, since it will refuse to leave the bed. you are now soulless and will feel absolutely zero emotion until sometime in the late afternoon/early evening when your soul returns and ALL the emotions will hit at once, leaving you alternately sobbing or creepily hyena laughing
1 hour: you fool. you imbecile. your hubris and weakness has brought you to this point. they are coming. you cannot escape. why didnt you just stay awake. why didnt you just pull the all-nighter. the strength of your no-sleep headache threatens to stab through your skull like an ice pick. all you can taste is blood. they are comi
0 hours: THIS ACTUALLY ISNT AS BAD. HAHA I’M NOT EVEN THAT TIRED! WATCH ME DOWN 15 MOUNTAIN DEWS IN 15 MINUTES. I CAN FEEL MY HEART BEATING IN MY EARS ISNT THAT WEIRD. WHAT DO YOU MEAN MY EYES ARE BLOODSHOT AND I CANT FOCUS, IM COMPLETELY NORMAL RIGHT NOW. GUYS I CAN HEAR COLORS.
Like, I want to be made into a beautiful glass thing. I want to be something treasured for a long time and rarely talked about. I want to live in the home of someone who loved me, and touched now and then in silent memory.
I want people to forget that I’m in there, I want the memory of what I am to pass out of the family’s knowledge. I want to be given away, and put out in a thriftstore somewhere.
I want someone to buy my ashes for $4.99 and put me in a window and love the colors. I want to cast beautiful, fractious and curving sunlight across the wall, sparkling and glowing and shimmering, depending on the time of day. I want someone to take a picture of me with the moon behind me, luminous and mysterious.
I want a witch to buy me and put me in her work room. I want an artist to leave me on their worktable. I want to inspire people and make them smile. I want to be warm from sunlight or chilly from the cool air. I want to be packed in newspaper carefully when they move. I want to be given as a holiday or graduation present to someone’s kid, I want to be given as a housewarming gift as a reminder of home.
And god, then, hopefully some day, I want to roll off the table, I want that globe to crack.
And then I want to haunt the living shit out of the future.
Holy shit, the comment made this sixty times more awesome and now I want this to be done to me too.
my great-grandchild: this is grandma orb, I don’t like calling her that she just put in her will that if she wasn’t addressed as “the orb” or something similar then she’d be pissed