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The Life Of "Mars".
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2016-11-27 10:09:52 (UTC)

Sleeping Problems

Sunday 27th November, 2016

It's 11:11 as of writing this, to think for awhile this time of night used to mean so much to me, thanks to Hayley.

The problem with me is my sleep clock for pretty much all of this year has been a few hours out of whack. I'll feel pretty tired for most of the day and my tiredness will reach it's peak around maybe 5PM on a school day. If I can make it past that without literally passing out I'll start feeling pretty awake to the point where I don't start feeling even slightly tired until maybe 2AM? Which is problematic since I've usually gotta wake up around 6AM for school. So I usually have to try and go to bed kinda early and even then I almost always roll back and forth for a good few hours.

It seems to me however I can still end up sleeping for well, longer then most people if I don't have anything going on. I stopped my sleeping habits for the most part, or at least tuned them down, so I could speak to Hayley. But since we haven't really been talking well, at all. So I've mostly just slept. Through the day and night, like twice. I only woke up occasionally to watch a bit of TV for an hour and think about things.

Me and Te Maunga are supposed to be hanging out on Tuesday.

I still can't stop thinking about Hayley. Everything still reminds me of her. She's even getting into my dreams. She's reaching beyond the physical world and into my very own private dreams. Fuckin hell.


To me, she was like a drug and I the lowly addict. Her happiness was my ecstasy, and I was hooked. Nothing compared to the jubilant hysteria that she gave me. What was even better is that this drug was risk free, or so I thought. Her sadness, her depression, her low became my low and after overdosing so much upon her high, her despair was my crash. I wouldn't take rehab as an option either. I wouldn't, couldn't lose her. She became my only true source of euphoric lust and pleasure.

I miss her. Everything about her. Everything. Her beautifully round eyes full of divinely painted blue. Her short chocolate brown hair that transformed to Valentine red. Her gentle lips that spoke such sweet words with the sound of tranquil harmony belonging to that of a choir of angels from above. The tiny freckles that dotted her face. The scars. I loved it all, every bit of her. They gave her unique characteristics that belonged to her and her alone. She couldn't be replaced. Not by man, woman, beast object or idea. Nothing could take the place that she so rightly had.

Her mind caved way for beauty and new philosophy to arise. I loved the way she cared so deeply for those around her. I mean really cared, not just a fake smile and a "Oh that's terrible." She really felt sorrow for those around her who were in pain, even those who she barely knew. That kindness, that compassion and love that she wielded made me so much more enthralled in her. Kindness, true kindness is something that I believe is a rare gem gifted to very few. No gold, silver or diamond could match it's value. This was all despite her wretched past that would twist most to corruption. I wanted to hurt those who did such misdeeds to her. I wanted to make them suffer. I would of made them go through what she went through. But there would be almost no need for this. She was strong, brave. Regardless of it all she soldiered on past the point where many would collapse. Her silliness, I can't forget that. Her random bouts of complete and utter random happiness was amazing. I found myself having an everlasting infatuation with everything about her.

But alas, I don't know. She might hate me right now. She might hate me forever. Perhaps this is my doom, my fate. She said she could never hate me forever, that I would never lose her. But I don't know anymore.

I wonder if she'll ever read this. I doubt she will, but it makes you wonder. She might go on to live the rest of her life never knowing what I wrote about her. The full extent of well, my words. I wonder if anyone else is reading this. Wondering what they think of well, a little 15 year old kid writing these things. It's probably silly, cringe worthy even. But oh well.

Peace, -Mars.