Dying Thoughts

There's something about being alone late at night that I think seems to loosen the limits of the imagination. You can start to think about something, like the fact that it's very important you learn to speak Japanese more than anything or that there's a serial killer outside, and for some reason the conscience just doesn't shush it. There's no "but there's other things that happen in my life" or "there's no reason there would be a serial killer outside" like usual. You seem to react much quicker to your thoughts, can scare or inspire or upset more easily than in clear, waking hours.

Having said that, last night I ninety percent convinced myself that I was going to die.

I want you to know that normally I'm not a hypochondriac or anything. But before I went to bed, I took a sleeping pill yesterday, for the first time. For some silly reason I was slightly nervous before, I think I just don't like the idea of putting nerve-altering substances inside me. Also I didn't read the packet clearly, therefore missed the "thirty minutes before going to bed", so I sort of sat on my bed, cross-legged, for a while after I swallowed it as if in exactly thirty minutes I would just click straight out of consciousness. And then all of a sudden I started to regret taking the sleeping pill and instead start to think, "Crap, I'm going to die."

It was completley irrational, and so I got up out of bed again and restarted my laptop, because it was the closest I could get to being surrounded by people I guess, it was late and I didn't want to call anyone. So I tweeted a few times sort of jokingly and then I shut the computer down again (I'm supposed to not use the internet an hour before I sleep, unsurprisingly I'm bad at that...) and I lay in bed and shut my eyes.

Then it really started. I obviously knew I wasn't going to die, but I was thinking "Just in case...". And in my head I started going through things I felt like I should summarize for myself before my untimely death, so I kind of forcefully pondered my friends and my family and this guy but then, as we do as we're falling asleep, my mind just started to wander.

Obviously I don't know the exact last thing I thought before I fell asleep. But I know the last thing I remember thinking about.

It was the fact that I'd tweeted before I went to bed, and this brief picture came into my head of the fact that my tweet count ended in 11.

That was an odd number and it wasn't a very neat way to leave things before I died.

*sigh* I am pathetic.

Obviously, my life is full of enough excitement and importance that Twitter and odd numbers was the last things I would've thought about. Before, y'know, I died from taking a herbal sleeping pill.