The point of the blog

I can't sleep. It's not that I've been tossing and turning, and have just deciede I can't sleep. No, it's 1am now, and I've only just gotten into bed. I've stayed up and watched crap tv for ages, knowing full well I'm not interested in what I was seeing, but just dreading having to go to my bed. And I have no idea why. Why is it that I have this nervous, uneasy, twitch, that is making me feel, well, scared? And the wierd things is that I have no idea what I'm scared of. It's like having the Mean Reds. I know it's not the usual fear I get before I nod off, which makes me get up and check all the doors and windows are locked at night. No, this fear is just dense, heavy, and stodgy, like a wool blanket that's too thick and oppressive and holds you down and suffocates you. And the worse thing is that I know that writing things down is supposed to help you relax and make you feel like you're surrendering your problems, but it's almost as if typing these words out gives breath and life and substantiates this fear into existence.

What's wrong with me? There is nothing to be frightened of. Nothing is going on. So why is my heart racing? Why can't I relax and sleep?

This is why I own a blog. So that I can write all these things down, and later on, much later, when this fear goes away, or the feelings that I have day to day, or little events that go to make up a life, are forgotten and surrendered to the past, I know that by writing these things, these crappy, little, stupid events and thoughts, means that I will always have some record of it. Albeit, if only in the digital universe, to be made up of 1's and 0's and little bits of electricity.

Now all I have to do is be able to sleep, to start another day.

Argh it's late and I appologise for this post. I'm going to try to get some sleep.