Insomnia hits again.

Sometime after four this morning, I wake up, blue. Like, real blue. Like, Blind Willie Johnson blue. In passing, people say "how are you?" as a greeting, not a question. I reply "good," or "fine." What would I say to people if I didn't have those two write-off words to turn to? "Why, actually, I have a terrible headache and my boogers are black and every time I see a happy couple in love I want to shoot them." Or something like that. Some days and moments are better than others, but for three hours I channel-surfed, ate gingersnaps in bed, smoked one of my roommates' cigarettes, flossed (twice), folded laundry, and otherwise puttered my sleep-time away. Sleep would not come. I just laid awake and wondered how I could screw up so badly, how I'm never going to be an RA again, and how the thing I loved the most in my life is gone. Happy thoughts, ladies and gentlemen, these were not. But, I'm making art, and I'm working hard, and I'm still doing two jobs on-campus, and I still have camps to apply to. There's even a small part of me that'd consider taking next year off, if only so I can re-apply to be an RCA my Super Senior year. But, I've got to move on sometime. Soon would be nice. I'm not holding my breath.