These days everywhere else seems like a more appealing place to sleep than my room.
Usually it’s the couch. And it has nothing to do with my room. I really like my room, and I have the best bed in the world.
I think it has to do with the fact that over the last five months I’ve spent so much time trying to fall asleep and not been able to and it’s just holding all of this restlessness and frustration. It might also be that sleeping somewhere else feels like my own personal rebellion against a set social norm. Because at this point I can’t actually break any of the ones that I want to break (like shouting abuse at someone or quitting school) and sleeping somewhere else is weirdly liberating and gives me a sense of control of my own life.
When nothing else does.
