There's nothing sexy about a yawn. A morning stretch, yes. A yawn, not so much.
I can't stop yawning. All day long. Basically, I'm watching my sex appeal walk out the door with each sleepy gape. Really. Every third sentence, just picture me yawning. And not a cute little yawn, but a you-can-see-my-tonsillectomy-scars chasm. Like I said, sexy. And I just yawned again.
All I need to do is get my silly ass to bed at a decent hour. But, no. My brain doesn't shut off until midnight. This isn't a case of "racing thoughts" or insomnia. At least that would be fixable. I just have a stubborn brain that wants to *do* stuff when we finally get on *my* time. My brain doesn't like the fact I have to rent it out to other people. It thought we were through with that. But no. Almost, just not yet. It's like dealing with a bratty toddler on sugar. It just wants its way, and I have not choice but to relent. Truth be told, I like my brain time. I just miss my sleep.
The brain and I don't get to bed until about one. The alarm goes off before six. And I live in a sleep deficit. It sucks. But this is how it goes. I am a square peg trying to fit into a round hole. I am not cut out for the nine-to-five world. And I know I'm not alone. We, the nocturnal masses, are the ones who support the caffeine industry. We do our best to function as *normal* people. But, we're not. We aren't lazy. We aren't slackers. We're not even hungover (most of the time....like 98%). We might look that way due to our dark circles, pale skin and perpetual yawning, but please note that we look a hot mess because we are desperately trying to adapt...and pretty much failing in spite of those efforts. Still, we don't give up. While we might be showing off our dental work to random strangers as we tilt back our heads and attempt to balance our oxygen levels, getting yet another latte, we are really trying our best to make it work.
And I just want my sexy back.