Insomnia

Insomnia is a funny thing.

You could be dreaming of your bed for hours and hours, yet the moment your body lays down in one - awake. completely awake.

And the train of thoughts starts. Thoughts that hadn't entered your mind in hours, days, even months. They choose a 12:53 arrival time. 

If there's one thing that - weirdly - fascinates me, it's the private life of famous people. It's the "I have to act like I act this way - when in fact I act this way" act. Who cares? Not to mention Gossip Girl or anything, but who cares how many sluts Chuck Bass has in his bed? That is ultimately not the problem. A 16-year-old who looks (and is, really) a 25-year-old running a company, on the other hand... Anyway.

Certain hockey players now refuse to be photographed with fans. The rumour is they're not 

even supposed to be out, so by not being photographed, the proof isn't there. Except these same hockey players who make that somewhat smart move have Facebooks. Whether it's because they're public or just because they have shitty friends, photographs leak. 

There is nothing wrong with this picture. Maybe a little too much tan in the back, maybe a little too much butt on the front, but why is it that these kinds of photographs (and those that are much worse) are taken seriously, when it's obvious 20-somethings with money would do this.

Don't get me wrong, I'll be the first to admit the 12-year-old in me squeels with joy at the thought of gossip. Which is why celebrities, hockey players especially, should not shy away from photographic evidence of their parties. Because clearly, they like to party.

 Well. This is probably not the best way to ease me into nice sleep, but this thought has been going around in my head for a few days now. Do you truely get over hating, despising someone? Because recently, that is to say on Saturday, I saw someone I used to hate, that I used to wish the worse things upon, and who did just the same for me. 

And I felt that same anger build up in me. Years later. It angered me that he did not seem to recognize me, it angered me that he was happy, it angered me that he is succesful. 

I think back to how horribly he treated me. I think back to how reasonable he was to hate me. 

I honestly can't wait until the day I can see him and not find myself raging. Maybe the only way would be exactly that - to not see him. Because I never think about him, ever, unless he is smiling in my face.