The thing with long-term insomnia is that you don’t really feel anything anymore. You go through your days and to all concerned you appear to be a normal person. But you’re neither happy nor sad, excited or bored. You’re just THERE.
And don’t get me started on the memory loss or the general feeling of unreality. Or the six-foot high spiders that aren’t really there. They scared the shit out of me.
No. It was the whole Not Really Feeling Anything that got me.
Except Anger. It was the only thing that got through, that made me feel alive.
So thank God for people like ‘J’.
Some time ago I worked for an idiot, on an idiotic monthly publication that didn’t really exist. Said idiot had an alarming habit of employing other idiots. The idiot level once got so high I wasn’t really sure if any of it was real.
Idiot Boss: Hi Tired. This is Jason. I’m sure you’ll all make him ‘feel’ welcome.
Jason: You can call me ‘J’.
Jason: I said you can call me ‘J’.
Me: [Laughing. I foolishly thought he was joking.] What? Like ‘H’ in ‘Steps’?
Jason: [Deadpan] Just ‘J’.
His jeans were so over-designed they must have been the work of an OCD epileptic, his hair would have worn Vidal Sassoon to the quick and I’m sorry but there is no way on God’s earth are you losing you door keys when they are attached to your belt with a two-foot long bicycle chain.
Not what I’d have worn on my first day but who am I? Did I mention the jeans were white?
The very fact that this absurd cockerel even exists is starting to re-invigorate me.
And then he started talking.
To be continued.