Night of January 7th, 2011. From the Stream of Consciousness.

Sleep doth not come to me.

I am awaiting whether this is true insomnia or perhaps, I just took the pills too close to this present moment.

I wanted to text that to you. "Sleep doth not come to me."

I hardly remember you, to be honest. All that is in my head is a concept.

An idea.

You and your ideas.... I used to get drunk on them. I was once addicted to them, nothing less than addicted. I don't doubt that I may never find a mind that works like yours.

I now have such a high standard for conversation that I am quite sure that not even I myself fulfill it. I hardly remember our conversations; I guess that's a good thing. On the other hand, I do remember that our chat logs still exist. Bad. They're just sitting there, amidst all the other virtual junk that causes me to have only 12 gigs of hard drive space free on my laptop. Such fail, hah.

I haven't touched them in a very long while. Rightfully so, too. Just as often do thoughts of you enter my mind.

Sleep doth not come to me.

I still want to text that to you. Perhaps I will, for the mere chance of maybe having a good conversation. I do not know.

All I know is that the more I think of it, the more likely I am to do so.

Interesting.

I will tell myself that I only acted so because I had a trigger, but I know that I probably would have done it anyway.

And now I simply wait, I suppose. I wonder what mood you'll be in if you do respond at all, heh.

I cannot help but wonder if I did something to spur that other text message.

God knows that one incapability that I constantly revert back to is the fact that I do not leave things alone.

Too often than now, I will act when I would have been better off doing nothing, or saying something when I most definitely would have been better off saying nothing.

I believe the formal term for it is "prudence" -- or in other words, knowing what to say or what to do as well as WHEN to do or say so.

I suppose I am just too expressive of an individual. And, I have always had problems determining the effect of my actions on others.

Well, perhaps now I am learning.

No, I'm not going to ask you "Why?" Though perhaps, you want me to.

It/This will bother me as long as I let it. I cannot help but suppose that with this timing as well as the mere conversations of today, that perhaps something posted on my Tumblr that upset you, or perhaps Yanelza told you what I said about you. Either way, your obvious defiance makes it clear that once again, I am somehow in the wrong and in the dark.

I am supposing that we just perhaps weren't meant to work out for these very reasons. (Wow, it is amazing how much my penmanship depends on the kind of pen I am using o_o).

Left in the dark, as always.

You did always have better self-control than I.

The Art of Seduction.

I can't help but wonder which type you would be, considering the fact that you might be the only one who remains whom I have yet to figure out.

I wonder if I have been attracting you, rather unintentionally, on my own. I remain unsure.

I am tired. My first yawn! Let us see what happens.

Additional Notes for the Reader.

• The stuff I write in my Notebook Stream of Consciousness are usually either thoughts late at night or thoughts while I am traveling somewhere.
• There are 3 separate Yous in this entry. #yeahi'vealwayswrittenformyselfanyway