Greetings friends, it is I, HaziWords, bringing you your daily forecast, of Hazi, with a chance of…..
————”I’m in love of the shape of you…. “ (Ed Sheeran’s song that is annoyingly catching, and slightly biased, because let’s face it. All he care’s about is the girls body. Questionable morals, no offense). Those lyrics define my love with my bed and pillow to the teeth.
I mean, you know, when I’m not arguing with an over-reactive imagination.——-
I’ve decided to give myself a challenge. I am going to write out all the fifty stages of exhaustion.
In only a few stages, because I don’t have the energy to do all fifty stages.
The lazy stage. You know, the stage you reach when your tired but don’t feel like doing any…
The focused stage. The stage you hit when you need caffeine to stay awake-but you know you can make it.
The determined stage. The stage where you are running off of three second winds, several energy drinks, and are just down-right hyper, determined to ward of sleep. You will complete any test…once you finish that Red Bull, and those wings catch up to you.
The fast and the fearless. This is the stage where you’re crabby, determined, and obnoxiously hyper.
Like to the point you are laughing at the History Channels documentations on aliens.
Oh wait. People do that already. MOVING ON!!
HYPERACTIVE SLEEPER. This is the stage you hit when you are so beyond exhaustion, that you have turned into stinkin’ Robin Williams, performing on stage. People could call you ugly and insult your laugh-and you’d just keep on smiling, and dance like your drunk, or just took a really old medication, and are having TERRIBLE side effects.
And nine-times-out-of-ten, you’re going to be kicking yourself in the morning, questioning your sanity, all the while laughing at how clever you were-even though you can only really remember that you conversed with someone, and wondering what exactly you said that is just so funny.
You’re so exhausted you can’t sleep no matter how hard you try. All of this is just pointless-and you are really peeved at yourself.
The Wonderer. I wonder what watermelons smell like? I wonder what vegans eat when they find out that plants can tell when they’re being eaten? (No offense, if you’re a vegan for that reason. I mean, I’m just pulling thoughts from the insomniac that I am at three in the morning. Whatever you do with your life, and your reasoning, is cool with me). I wonder if any other people can actually hear the stupid sheep when you count them.
The Highschooler. You could be in middle school, at work, or whatever, but I’m still calling it the highschooler.
Because no amount of over-priced coffee is keeping you up, bubco;uarebvaoivb’asfoivns’ovjnasd