Fuck my sleep.
I never really tried to do anything—writing; it simply happened: I just wrote whatever came to my heart. And then sketching; I must say that I really understood the things—it took some time, but it was always worth it. And then watercolor: I am practicing it for about 9 months; I sometimes panic, but I somehow do it; I get some understanding every time I do one, and it gives me thrill. And driving—the Diesel engine—it drives itself, and I watch, sitting on the seat, just moving the steering left and right wherever the road takes me. All of this is good; but sleep… I really try hard to sleep; the more I try, the harder it gets. I end up getting delirious and panicky, and sleep paralysis is too often now.
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