Entry 1

I lay here awake. My eyelids hung low but my mind racing. Now I write without stop hoping to become the monkey that can replicate any one of Shakespeare's works. I turn over to my right side so that my head can comfortably rest while staring at the bright screen. It's so bright that it casts everything else into the darkness. I cannot see but I can still hear. The fan on high sending the wind cooling the air. The plastic thing on the window hitting the glass. The springs on my back resisting my weight. I now yawn. This little experiment seems to be working.

To write without stop can wear upon the mind of a man. I am that man. Tears have begun to come to my eyes. No not real tears of sadness or being impressed with my work of art. Just the tiredness of the day. Or night because the sun is about to rise. I just remembered a young boy from when I was 8 or 9 saying quite enthusiastically that tears were the soul cleaning itself. Sounds poetic enough but personally I think he was full of shit. Not in a bad way I mean. Like he was just repeating something that he probably heard the other day and was hoping that the people would think that he was a little priest or something. Not a bad thing to do because as a writer what am I other than a collection of my favorite writers? See I stole that from a professor of mine. Sounds great in my head but I would most likely mess it up if I tried to impress people in real life.

Now I'm on my left side with my face on my left arm. My left eye is pressed up against whatever you call the other side from the elbow. It feels like its really working but I guess I'll need to keep going if I want to sleep before the sun comes up. I'm not sure if I'll post this. If I do then it'll be completely unedited as some of my thoughts probably come out crazy like. This isn't like any of the other things I've written.

The diary of an insomniac originally started as a way to help myself go to sleep but along the way I created a vision of it for myself. Now that I think of it why is everything I write weird? Why can't I write about some virtual reality game or some op god badassness? Alright truth be told and I mean no disrespect to those who write on those topics because I read plenty of them but I couldn't write about something that everyone else is writing about. Like I imagine it's some kind of pretentious bullshit on my part but I like the weird stuff or style I guess that I use? Was that multiple partial sentences stitched together?

You'll have to forgive me if I ever start posting this. Damn at this point I'm talking to an imaginary friend. Wait it's not even a friend if it's a one way conversation. Well then it's like some writing on the wall. Red and bloody left by the last poor bastard that was chained down here. Down where? In my head I guess. Now I just sound like an insane person. Ok I've stopped and this should be enough to post if I ever decide to. And imaginary person keep in mind that I wrote all this mess nonstop. Oh and it is 5:24 am. 

Entry 2

Yay, its part two of my real insomnia rambling umm thing. Sorry the lack of naming sense comes from a mixture of the late hour and the continuous writing. I recalled a funny memory from my past. I guess I don't need that last part, I mean where else can my memory come from? But still I remember the first poem I ever wrote. Ok there might have been a few before but this is the only one I remember.

So I was in ninth grade English class and my teacher who was a youngish religious black woman (I think these details add to the story) assigned the class to write a poem of like ten or twelve lines. At that point I hadn't gotten into literary works or concepts so all I knew about poetry was Edgar Allen Poe and moody emo teenagers. And so I wrote about what I thought a moody emo teenager would write about. Death, pain and the burden of existence. Just so you know I made it really cliché. Like I wrote about how all I see are shadows and darkness all around me. Some stuff about death, I was pretty young so I didn't have a real concept of it yet. And boom I made it rhyme and turned it in as is.

I quickly forgot about it and the next day in class I was called up by the teacher. The whole class was talking so no one was paying attention to me or her. I walked over to her and she had my paper or poem in her hands. The first thing she said was "do you need to go to the counselor's office?" With a very worried look at me. I was struck dumb so all I could figure out was that I had done something out. But all I could get out was "umm... wha?" Then she started going off on me about what I had written and that she thought I was disturbed or something. And all this really confused me at the time. I had written a poem in the same manner that I thought most poems were written. Then somewhere in her words I pieced together the problem. The poem was supposed to be about ourselves. And I had written about pain, death and emo shit.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

My memory is fuzzy on how I managed to calm her down and explain what had happened. I'm honestly surprised and impressed on how my younger self could have done it. So I walked back to my seat still feeling that strange feeling one gets when they have uncovered a mystery about someone. Hmm hard to explain that one. Let me try again. I had the "what just happened" feeling going through my head when my friends all asked me why she thought I was depressed. I explained and they all fell down laughing. Not really but just understand that they did find it so funny that they couldn't breathe.

Still not sure if I'll post this but now I'm thinking of writing a few days worth and posting that as a chapter or something. Regardless I still need to finish The diary but I have way too much stuff to do this week so I think I'll have to put it off till the weekend. Now I'm just thinking about my plans or my lack of time to write. I would like to write the diary but it's almost done so I want to make sure I have time to thoroughly edit it so that I leave enough clues as to what's going on in there.

So I think I've written enough. Yeah I'll leave it at that. If I post it let me know if it was funny. Now I'm thinking about posting micro fiction aside from this nonstop writing experiment. Micro fiction would be full stories told in about five hundred words I guess. Not that this story is that. This really happened and it sometimes comes up when meeting old high school friends. Well then it is 3:29 am so I guess I'll bid you, my imaginary friend, goodnight.

Entry 3

And now I'm back to this meditative little experiment of mine. I don't know what I'll talk about. Damn my head hurts. It's not particularly painful but I can feel the wariness in my neck and the back of my head. Honestly this is making it hard to concentrate. Wait my head slid down a smidge and the bad feeling is going away. Hooray! My head is slightly turned to the side while looking at my phone. I am relaxing my neck and the pain is going away. This is my yoga. Not moving and just going comatose.

Today I had to do quite a bit of future planning. Yeah the stressful kind where you're not sure if you want to do that and you start to feel a little bit of that existential dread. I had a short talk with my logic professor after class about possibly getting a minor in philosophy. He asked me if I had a greater interest in the subject and I mentioned that I had read the republic by Plato when I was in high school. Not because of a grade but because I wanted too. It was a crazy read that really sent me into what I consider to be my modern thoughts on morality. It's a heavy read having some 300 pages but it's written or should I say translated so that the layman can understand.

I guess as my short summary I would say that the book is about a party where Plato is with his teacher Socrates. In the party some people begin asking questions to Socrates and a rich fellow comes over with his knowledge on philosophy to say that he knew the truth. The rich guy went with sophism which was the standard belief at the time. Sophism is basically there is no good or bad just beneficial and detrimental to the individual. And so the others ask Socrates for his opinion on the matter and he gives an argument for good and evil existing.

It was an argument beautifully expressed but it was only an argument not his belief. And so once that's done he begins trying to uncover the true meaning of good and evil supposing his argument is true. He arrives to the conclusion that good is not really good but justice. Justice is evenness and injustice is an unbalance. Therefore for a society to be able to stand then there must be some measure of balance. That's not what he said that's my interpretation of what I read a few years ago.

Oh I'm not sure if I mentioned it but earlier he made a valid argument that goodness is beneficial and evil is detrimental to the individual. So now replace those words with justice and injustice. I think at that point the rich guy walked away and someone asked Socrates what would be his ideal society. I'm mentioning this because this is what my professor and I spoke about. And so he goes on to describe his ideal society and opposed to common belief Socrates is very authoritarian. Like to the point of those 20 century novels of dystopian futures. I mean 1984, Fahrenheit 451, any Ayn Rand book and not the hunter games. You know I may be way too pretentious when it comes to what I just said. I'll need to reflect if the hunger games qualify and if the whole love triangle teenager bullshit is clouding my intellectual vision.

Anyway back to what I was saying. If you have read the allegory of the cave by Plato then you know about the dumb staying dumb while those in power rule and lie to them. Well Plato is in favor of that. Surprise! A philosopher you would think would be all for the rights of man and other enlightenment era philosophy is actually pretty classist. Now I should include that he probably thinks that way as that would be the fastest and surest way to further humanity and thought. So I would say he wouldn't go for the individual or even the lasting of the society but more for what the society can achieve.

Other crazy points he made. People would be assigned their job that they would do for the rest of their life. Sex would be managed as in with who and when. Babies would be euthanized if they weren't good enough (this wasn't crazy back then, Sparta did it). The rulers would be a class of philosophers that wouldn't care for wealth or power but the advancement of their knowledge. And the craziest thing for them at the time... women would be equal to men. I know right pretty mind shattering if you consider how long ago this was. I forget the year and I feel like I lost that point I was trying to make. Oh well that's what we chatted about and now I feel like it's time to give up the late night/early morning writing. It's 4:05 am and that's all folks.