recycled crap

I'm going to recycle an old post from a previous blog.... Excuse my lazyness

Last night you sensed it when you entered the room, something didn't seem right, it could have been how your biro was balancing on top of the huge stack of unfinished paperwork, or the way your duvet hung of the side of your bed.... You chose to ignore it then, and now you're paying with your sanity.
It's 43 minutes past 1 and you wake up, sweat dripping out of every pore, your eyes ready to pop out of their sockets, it’s too dark, you can’t see anything. After a while your breathing slows down, your eyes get used to the darkness. You inhale deeply and turn over onto your other side. You are facing the wall now, with your back to the rest of the room. Your back to all the dark corners you were too afraid to face. Fear of the darkness grips your mind, you pull the covers over your head, you sweat even more.
You wake up at 6:51 you've outlasted whatever it was you were battling all night, your nerves are torn to shreds and fatigue overwhelms you. 6.53, seven minutes before the alarm goes off. You lift the duvet and feel the cold sweat evaporating from your damp clothes. You feel filthy, like you haven’t washed properly in a week, sniffing your pits you come to the conclusion that you probably haven’t. Being unable to control your bladder any longer you go to the bathroom and relieve yourself, if you hurry you can go back to bed and sleep for three more minutes. You stand in the doorway of your bedroom and as you enter this pong hits you, a mixture of horse manure and old pizza congealed with white beans in tomato sauce. After you vow to clean up after yourself, a window is cracked open, and you light an old incense stick which supposedly smells of Egyptian musk only you have no idea what that smells like so you take their word for it. Just as your heavy head hits the pillow, the mobile phone screams a shrill polyphonic version of a traditional alarm bell in your eardrum. At this point you know that today will be one of those days.
On your way to uni you have Jack Nicholson on your mind. Jack Nicholson scares you, well its more his evil eyebrows that scare you the Hollywood movie moguls could make a teen cult horror movie just about those eyebrows. You imagine he wakes up every morning after giving Fear a bout of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, you imagine he grins at himself in the mirror and uses his toothbrush to brush the crazy eyebrows in the only direction he knows how to, UP. Apparently he was sex-bomb in his younger years, women threw themselves at him, you ponder why but then come to the obvious conclusion that his objects of affection were so petrified they threw themselves at him thinking that that is the only way they could save themselves.