When I was 6 years old, I had lost my ability to speak.

This was really odd, because I started talking earlier than most children, and I was able to speak in 2 languages (Thai and English), and understood Chomorro, the common dialect of the people of the Mariana Islands (were I had spent much of my early childhood).

It's early morning: 8 AM to be exact, and we're already awake. It's summer. It's hot.

I sneak off with my friends through the wooded forest that lines the shore of Saipan near our neighborhood. It obscures the view of the beach as a matter of fact, because you must walk a half mile through the woods to get to the beach, known to the westerners who occupied Saipan as hidden Beach.

We're swimming, something all of us were forbidden to do without an adult, and my best friend Mika and I are only about 30 or 40 feet from shore--the water is shallow. I'm not sure what caused me to panick about the distance that was spreading between Mika and I but, I came to realize pretty quickly that we were drifting fast. I tried to yell to Mika who was much further out than me to hurry up and catch up to me (there was a reef just beyond us and the ocean crashed ferociously to the waves).

For some reason I was being pushed quickly to the left, while he was being pushed out. I tried desperately to call to him, but realized that my voice was gone! I mean, just completely vanished.

I had to have drifted about a mile to the east of our original location, but to a 6 year old, a mile feels like a hundred.

I was strong enough, or perhaps the current at the new location was weak enough, to allow me to make it to shore. My head was dizzie, I was vomitting, and my lungs felt like they were on fire.

But all I could do was panic because I couldn't scream--I couldn't say...anything! Luckily the location where I ended on the shore had another nieghborhood sperated by the forest, but the forest at this location was nothing more than an acre thick, sheilding the other nieghborhood.

I ran through the woods, cutting my feet on the limestone pathway towards the first house I could think of---Maria Mengle.

Maria was a kind and friendly woman, a mix of Thai and Chommoran, who had befriended my mother. My mother would often take me and my sister over to Mariah's house for lunch, and she would make us the most delicious bowl of soup.

I ran stumbling and gasping, and crying, and banged ferociously on her door. "Who is it?" a male voice called. But, I could not answer. By now, I was sure Mika had been eaten by the sharks, and a panic overcame me---a selfish panic, but at age 6, can I be blamed? I was certain that my father would beat me because I broke the rule about swimming and Mika drowned as a result, or worse yet, he was attacked by one of the many blue sharks in Saipan's waters.

I kept knocking, and finally after what seemed like hours, the door slowly opened and there stood Maria looking down at me. I tried to say her name...I tried to explain what was happenning. I gestured for her to call my mom...I was crying.

Behind her stood Mr. Mengle, a man I had only vaguely heard about, but had never actually ever seen. "Who the fuck is this?," he asked accusingly towards her. She turned around and said, "I'm not sure. But he looks beat up." I ran towards her to grab her, but something in her eyes told me to stay away...to not approach...and, so I didn't.

She said something I can't remember....Something to the affect of, "Go on little boy. You have the wrong home." and the door closed.

There have been times in my life I have felt abandoned, but nothing like this. Nothing so shocking. I was desperately trying to say her name again... "Mariah!!!!', but nothing came out of my mouth. Just air. I cried, and cried. I just remember feeling so panicked and lonely.

Then I heard yelling in the back of the house. I went back to look, and I could see inside the screened window---the houses in Saipand seldom had A/C, except in the master bedrooms, and this was obviously the living room. All rooms except the masters had open screen windows, so it was easy to hear other people's business. Mr. Mengle was still yelling at Mariah.

Years, later, I would fully understand that we only saw her for lunch, because she wasn't allowed to have friends. Therefore, my mother and we children would leave after lunch far earlier than 5 PM when Mr. Mengle would return from work. Never once had I suspected the nature of Mr. Mengle...not when Mariah would answer the door with bruised legs...not when she would call my mom and postpone a lunch date indefinately...not when she would sometimes have casts on her arms and cuts on her body....bruises on her soft, delicate face.

Mr. Mengle had his arms around her shoulders now, shaking her like I had never seen done before. She didn't make any noise...no crying...no yelling...nothing...she simply kept her head lowered and did not make eye contact with him....She was facing me, and his back was towards me during all of this.

Suddenly, her eyes lifted up and saw me standing outside the window. I'm not sure what thought was going through her mind, but somewhere in her, a fire was lit. She broke away from his clutch, and reached for the mop next too her, and without saying a word, she jammed it in his face. He fell over cursing, and she ran out the front door, and came over to me, and picked me up, and ran towards her car.

Within seconds Mr. Mengle had run out to stop her (and me) from getting in the car.

I wish I could tell you that she fought him off... I wish I could tell you that he had a change of heart.

I wish I could even tell you that she started the car before he could grab us.

What actually happenned was far more practicle. The neighbor happened to be a policeman, who minded his own business most of the time, but apparently he knew that Mariah was being beaten...all the neighbors knew...and today, he could finally take no more....He restrained Mr. Mengle and handcuffed him....

All the neighbors came out... All of them... And they all showed solidarity.

My voice returned mysteriously at the end of the day. Mika had actually swam to shore after I had reach Mariah's house. And, the evening started off just as quietly as the day started earlier.

I believe that God let me lose my voice so that Mariah could find her inner voice. none of this story is true of course. I made it all up. But the point is that we should be brave and find inspiration in all things. I love you guys, and wish you all the best.

imago said:

When I was 6 years old, I had lost my ability to speak.

This was really odd, because I started talking earlier than most children, and I was able to speak in 2 languages (Thai and English), and understood Chomorro, the common dialect of the people of the Mariana Islands (were I had spent much of my early childhood).

It's early morning: 8 AM to be exact, and we're already awake. It's summer. It's hot.

I sneak off with my friends through the wooded forest that lines the shore of Saipan near our neighborhood. It obscures the view of the beach as a matter of fact, because you must walk a half mile through the woods to get to the beach, known to the westerners who occupied Saipan as hidden Beach.

We're swimming, something all of us were forbidden to do without an adult, and my best friend Mika and I are only about 30 or 40 feet from shore--the water is shallow. I'm not sure what caused me to panick about the distance that was spreading between Mika and I but, I came to realize pretty quickly that we were drifting fast. I tried to yell to Mika who was much further out than me to hurry up and catch up to me (there was a reef just beyond us and the ocean crashed ferociously to the waves).

For some reason I was being pushed quickly to the left, while he was being pushed out. I tried desperately to call to him, but realized that my voice was gone! I mean, just completely vanished.

I had to have drifted about a mile to the east of our original location, but to a 6 year old, a mile feels like a hundred.

I was strong enough, or perhaps the current at the new location was weak enough, to allow me to make it to shore. My head was dizzie, I was vomitting, and my lungs felt like they were on fire.

But all I could do was panic because I couldn't scream--I couldn't say...anything! Luckily the location where I ended on the shore had another nieghborhood sperated by the forest, but the forest at this location was nothing more than an acre thick, sheilding the other nieghborhood.

I ran through the woods, cutting my feet on the limestone pathway towards the first house I could think of---Maria Mengle.

Maria was a kind and friendly woman, a mix of Thai and Chommoran, who had befriended my mother. My mother would often take me and my sister over to Mariah's house for lunch, and she would make us the most delicious bowl of soup.

I ran stumbling and gasping, and crying, and banged ferociously on her door. "Who is it?" a male voice called. But, I could not answer. By now, I was sure Mika had been eaten by the sharks, and a panic overcame me---a selfish panic, but at age 6, can I be blamed? I was certain that my father would beat me because I broke the rule about swimming and Mika drowned as a result, or worse yet, he was attacked by one of the many blue sharks in Saipan's waters.

I kept knocking, and finally after what seemed like hours, the door slowly opened and there stood Maria looking down at me. I tried to say her name...I tried to explain what was happenning. I gestured for her to call my mom...I was crying.

Behind her stood Mr. Mengle, a man I had only vaguely heard about, but had never actually ever seen. "Who the fuck is this?," he asked accusingly towards her. She turned around and said, "I'm not sure. But he looks beat up." I ran towards her to grab her, but something in her eyes told me to stay away...to not approach...and, so I didn't.

She said something I can't remember....Something to the affect of, "Go on little boy. You have the wrong home." and the door closed.

There have been times in my life I have felt abandoned, but nothing like this. Nothing so shocking. I was desperately trying to say her name again... "Mariah!!!!', but nothing came out of my mouth. Just air. I cried, and cried. I just remember feeling so panicked and lonely.

Then I heard yelling in the back of the house. I went back to look, and I could see inside the screened window---the houses in Saipand seldom had A/C, except in the master bedrooms, and this was obviously the living room. All rooms except the masters had open screen windows, so it was easy to hear other people's business. Mr. Mengle was still yelling at Mariah.

Years, later, I would fully understand that we only saw her for lunch, because she wasn't allowed to have friends. Therefore, my mother and we children would leave after lunch far earlier than 5 PM when Mr. Mengle would return from work. Never once had I suspected the nature of Mr. Mengle...not when Mariah would answer the door with bruised legs...not when she would call my mom and postpone a lunch date indefinately...not when she would sometimes have casts on her arms and cuts on her body....bruises on her soft, delicate face.

Mr. Mengle had his arms around her shoulders now, shaking her like I had never seen done before. She didn't make any noise...no crying...no yelling...nothing...she simply kept her head lowered and did not make eye contact with him....She was facing me, and his back was towards me during all of this.

Suddenly, her eyes lifted up and saw me standing outside the window. I'm not sure what thought was going through her mind, but somewhere in her, a fire was lit. She broke away from his clutch, and reached for the mop next too her, and without saying a word, she jammed it in his face. He fell over cursing, and she ran out the front door, and came over to me, and picked me up, and ran towards her car.

Within seconds Mr. Mengle had run out to stop her (and me) from getting in the car.

I wish I could tell you that she fought him off... I wish I could tell you that he had a change of heart.

I wish I could even tell you that she started the car before he could grab us.

What actually happenned was far more practicle. The neighbor happened to be a policeman, who minded his own business most of the time, but apparently he knew that Mariah was being beaten...all the neighbors knew...and today, he could finally take no more....He restrained Mr. Mengle and handcuffed him....

All the neighbors came out... All of them... And they all showed solidarity.

My voice returned mysteriously at the end of the day. Mika had actually swam to shore after I had reach Mariah's house. And, the evening started off just as quietly as the day started earlier.

I believe that God let me lose my voice so that Mariah could find her inner voice. none of this story is true of course. I made it all up. But the point is that we should be brave and find inspiration in all things. I love you guys, and wish you all the best.

You filthy, filthy bastard!!!

I am pretty much all round perfect, perhaps my modesty could use a tweak.

Dave1992 said:

imago said:

When I was 6 years old, I had lost my ability to speak.

This was really odd, because I started talking earlier than most children, and I was able to speak in 2 languages (Thai and English), and understood Chomorro, the common dialect of the people of the Mariana Islands (were I had spent much of my early childhood).

It's early morning: 8 AM to be exact, and we're already awake. It's summer. It's hot.

I sneak off with my friends through the wooded forest that lines the shore of Saipan near our neighborhood. It obscures the view of the beach as a matter of fact, because you must walk a half mile through the woods to get to the beach, known to the westerners who occupied Saipan as hidden Beach.

We're swimming, something all of us were forbidden to do without an adult, and my best friend Mika and I are only about 30 or 40 feet from shore--the water is shallow. I'm not sure what caused me to panick about the distance that was spreading between Mika and I but, I came to realize pretty quickly that we were drifting fast. I tried to yell to Mika who was much further out than me to hurry up and catch up to me (there was a reef just beyond us and the ocean crashed ferociously to the waves).

For some reason I was being pushed quickly to the left, while he was being pushed out. I tried desperately to call to him, but realized that my voice was gone! I mean, just completely vanished.

I had to have drifted about a mile to the east of our original location, but to a 6 year old, a mile feels like a hundred.

I was strong enough, or perhaps the current at the new location was weak enough, to allow me to make it to shore. My head was dizzie, I was vomitting, and my lungs felt like they were on fire.

But all I could do was panic because I couldn't scream--I couldn't say...anything! Luckily the location where I ended on the shore had another nieghborhood sperated by the forest, but the forest at this location was nothing more than an acre thick, sheilding the other nieghborhood.

I ran through the woods, cutting my feet on the limestone pathway towards the first house I could think of---Maria Mengle.

Maria was a kind and friendly woman, a mix of Thai and Chommoran, who had befriended my mother. My mother would often take me and my sister over to Mariah's house for lunch, and she would make us the most delicious bowl of soup.

I ran stumbling and gasping, and crying, and banged ferociously on her door. "Who is it?" a male voice called. But, I could not answer. By now, I was sure Mika had been eaten by the sharks, and a panic overcame me---a selfish panic, but at age 6, can I be blamed? I was certain that my father would beat me because I broke the rule about swimming and Mika drowned as a result, or worse yet, he was attacked by one of the many blue sharks in Saipan's waters.

I kept knocking, and finally after what seemed like hours, the door slowly opened and there stood Maria looking down at me. I tried to say her name...I tried to explain what was happenning. I gestured for her to call my mom...I was crying.

Behind her stood Mr. Mengle, a man I had only vaguely heard about, but had never actually ever seen. "Who the fuck is this?," he asked accusingly towards her. She turned around and said, "I'm not sure. But he looks beat up." I ran towards her to grab her, but something in her eyes told me to stay away...to not approach...and, so I didn't.

She said something I can't remember....Something to the affect of, "Go on little boy. You have the wrong home." and the door closed.

There have been times in my life I have felt abandoned, but nothing like this. Nothing so shocking. I was desperately trying to say her name again... "Mariah!!!!', but nothing came out of my mouth. Just air. I cried, and cried. I just remember feeling so panicked and lonely.

Then I heard yelling in the back of the house. I went back to look, and I could see inside the screened window---the houses in Saipand seldom had A/C, except in the master bedrooms, and this was obviously the living room. All rooms except the masters had open screen windows, so it was easy to hear other people's business. Mr. Mengle was still yelling at Mariah.

Years, later, I would fully understand that we only saw her for lunch, because she wasn't allowed to have friends. Therefore, my mother and we children would leave after lunch far earlier than 5 PM when Mr. Mengle would return from work. Never once had I suspected the nature of Mr. Mengle...not when Mariah would answer the door with bruised legs...not when she would call my mom and postpone a lunch date indefinately...not when she would sometimes have casts on her arms and cuts on her body....bruises on her soft, delicate face.

Mr. Mengle had his arms around her shoulders now, shaking her like I had never seen done before. She didn't make any noise...no crying...no yelling...nothing...she simply kept her head lowered and did not make eye contact with him....She was facing me, and his back was towards me during all of this.

Suddenly, her eyes lifted up and saw me standing outside the window. I'm not sure what thought was going through her mind, but somewhere in her, a fire was lit. She broke away from his clutch, and reached for the mop next too her, and without saying a word, she jammed it in his face. He fell over cursing, and she ran out the front door, and came over to me, and picked me up, and ran towards her car.

Within seconds Mr. Mengle had run out to stop her (and me) from getting in the car.

I wish I could tell you that she fought him off... I wish I could tell you that he had a change of heart.

I wish I could even tell you that she started the car before he could grab us.

What actually happenned was far more practicle. The neighbor happened to be a policeman, who minded his own business most of the time, but apparently he knew that Mariah was being beaten...all the neighbors knew...and today, he could finally take no more....He restrained Mr. Mengle and handcuffed him....

All the neighbors came out... All of them... And they all showed solidarity.

My voice returned mysteriously at the end of the day. Mika had actually swam to shore after I had reach Mariah's house. And, the evening started off just as quietly as the day started earlier.

I believe that God let me lose my voice so that Mariah could find her inner voice. none of this story is true of course. I made it all up. But the point is that we should be brave and find inspiration in all things. I love you guys, and wish you all the best.

You filthy, filthy bastard!!!

I started reading it and thought; "This is one of Imago's pranks."

Then I kept reading and started became engrossed with the story.

I can't believe I fell for it again.

imago said:

When I was 6 years old, I had lost my ability to speak.

This was really odd, because I started talking earlier than most children, and I was able to speak in 2 languages (Thai and English), and understood Chomorro, the common dialect of the people of the Mariana Islands (were I had spent much of my early childhood).

It's early morning: 8 AM to be exact, and we're already awake. It's summer. It's hot.

I sneak off with my friends through the wooded forest that lines the shore of Saipan near our neighborhood. It obscures the view of the beach as a matter of fact, because you must walk a half mile through the woods to get to the beach, known to the westerners who occupied Saipan as hidden Beach.

We're swimming, something all of us were forbidden to do without an adult, and my best friend Mika and I are only about 30 or 40 feet from shore--the water is shallow. I'm not sure what caused me to panick about the distance that was spreading between Mika and I but, I came to realize pretty quickly that we were drifting fast. I tried to yell to Mika who was much further out than me to hurry up and catch up to me (there was a reef just beyond us and the ocean crashed ferociously to the waves).

For some reason I was being pushed quickly to the left, while he was being pushed out. I tried desperately to call to him, but realized that my voice was gone! I mean, just completely vanished.

I had to have drifted about a mile to the east of our original location, but to a 6 year old, a mile feels like a hundred.

I was strong enough, or perhaps the current at the new location was weak enough, to allow me to make it to shore. My head was dizzie, I was vomitting, and my lungs felt like they were on fire.

But all I could do was panic because I couldn't scream--I couldn't say...anything! Luckily the location where I ended on the shore had another nieghborhood sperated by the forest, but the forest at this location was nothing more than an acre thick, sheilding the other nieghborhood.

I ran through the woods, cutting my feet on the limestone pathway towards the first house I could think of---Maria Mengle.

Maria was a kind and friendly woman, a mix of Thai and Chommoran, who had befriended my mother. My mother would often take me and my sister over to Mariah's house for lunch, and she would make us the most delicious bowl of soup.

I ran stumbling and gasping, and crying, and banged ferociously on her door. "Who is it?" a male voice called. But, I could not answer. By now, I was sure Mika had been eaten by the sharks, and a panic overcame me---a selfish panic, but at age 6, can I be blamed? I was certain that my father would beat me because I broke the rule about swimming and Mika drowned as a result, or worse yet, he was attacked by one of the many blue sharks in Saipan's waters.

I kept knocking, and finally after what seemed like hours, the door slowly opened and there stood Maria looking down at me. I tried to say her name...I tried to explain what was happenning. I gestured for her to call my mom...I was crying.

Behind her stood Mr. Mengle, a man I had only vaguely heard about, but had never actually ever seen. "Who the fuck is this?," he asked accusingly towards her. She turned around and said, "I'm not sure. But he looks beat up." I ran towards her to grab her, but something in her eyes told me to stay away...to not approach...and, so I didn't.

She said something I can't remember....Something to the affect of, "Go on little boy. You have the wrong home." and the door closed.

There have been times in my life I have felt abandoned, but nothing like this. Nothing so shocking. I was desperately trying to say her name again... "Mariah!!!!', but nothing came out of my mouth. Just air. I cried, and cried. I just remember feeling so panicked and lonely.

Then I heard yelling in the back of the house. I went back to look, and I could see inside the screened window---the houses in Saipand seldom had A/C, except in the master bedrooms, and this was obviously the living room. All rooms except the masters had open screen windows, so it was easy to hear other people's business. Mr. Mengle was still yelling at Mariah.

Years, later, I would fully understand that we only saw her for lunch, because she wasn't allowed to have friends. Therefore, my mother and we children would leave after lunch far earlier than 5 PM when Mr. Mengle would return from work. Never once had I suspected the nature of Mr. Mengle...not when Mariah would answer the door with bruised legs...not when she would call my mom and postpone a lunch date indefinately...not when she would sometimes have casts on her arms and cuts on her body....bruises on her soft, delicate face.

Mr. Mengle had his arms around her shoulders now, shaking her like I had never seen done before. She didn't make any noise...no crying...no yelling...nothing...she simply kept her head lowered and did not make eye contact with him....She was facing me, and his back was towards me during all of this.

Suddenly, her eyes lifted up and saw me standing outside the window. I'm not sure what thought was going through her mind, but somewhere in her, a fire was lit. She broke away from his clutch, and reached for the mop next too her, and without saying a word, she jammed it in his face. He fell over cursing, and she ran out the front door, and came over to me, and picked me up, and ran towards her car.

Within seconds Mr. Mengle had run out to stop her (and me) from getting in the car.

I wish I could tell you that she fought him off... I wish I could tell you that he had a change of heart.

I wish I could even tell you that she started the car before he could grab us.

What actually happenned was far more practicle. The neighbor happened to be a policeman, who minded his own business most of the time, but apparently he knew that Mariah was being beaten...all the neighbors knew...and today, he could finally take no more....He restrained Mr. Mengle and handcuffed him....

All the neighbors came out... All of them... And they all showed solidarity.

My voice returned mysteriously at the end of the day. Mika had actually swam to shore after I had reach Mariah's house. And, the evening started off just as quietly as the day started earlier.

I believe that God let me lose my voice so that Mariah could find her inner voice. none of this story is true of course. I made it all up. But the point is that we should be brave and find inspiration in all things. I love you guys, and wish you all the best.

you lost me at 6

whut happened???

to Dave1992

to purplejedi

My story was meant to inspire.

imago said:

to Dave1992

to purplejedi

My story was meant to inspire.

What disdain-hate e-mail?

kewlschool said:

imago said:

to Dave1992

to purplejedi

My story was meant to inspire.

What disdain-hate e-mail?

OMG , my poo list grows!

oh wait, you were already on the list!

Terrib3Towel said:

PREDOMINANT said:

I am pretty much all round perfect, perhaps my modesty could use a tweak.

imago said:

to Dave1992

to purplejedi

My story was meant to inspire.

PurpleJedi said:

imago said:

My story was meant to inspire.

Inspire THIS

beatriceau said:

Terrib3Towel said:

I wouldn't be gay..

Why? Because of the way people treat u? [Edited 6/19/12 0:03am]

maybe it wasn't a choice for them

maybe it was the wrong choice for them

missfee said:

I'd have a flatter stomach. I don't mind my juicy ass or my grapefruit breasts, but if I could just get my stomach to be flat, I'd be happy.

Get lipsuction! I got rid of my gut, but it was not by design. I had to have a breast removed. I had a pot belly so the plastic surgeon took the fat from my pot belly and made me a new breast. VOILA! Flat stomach and brand new titty! Just wish I had enough left over to give me bigger ass cheeks.

PANDURITO said:

PurpleJedi said:

Inspire THIS

OK.

I have one thing that I really, really need to change about myself...

...I wish that I had money smarts.

I don't know WHAT IT IS, but my money slips right through my fingers.

I had been doing good these past couple of months, and even squirreled away a little bit (for once in my life)...but in 2 weeks I somehow inexplicably blew through most of it. Not there was much to work with...but still my carefully-planned budget went bye-bye with just a few unexpected expenses.

PurpleJedi said:

OK.

I have one thing that I really, really need to change about myself...

...I wish that I had money smarts.

I don't know WHAT IT IS, but my money slips right through my fingers.

I had been doing good these past couple of months, and even squirreled away a little bit (for once in my life)...but in 2 weeks I somehow inexplicably blew through most of it. Not there was much to work with...but still my carefully-planned budget went bye-bye with just a few unexpected expenses.

Case-in-point...my awesome weekend has completely FUBAR'd my budget for June/July.

POSITIVITY.

I find the negative in everything. There's always something wrong. I could write paragraphs about how fucked up my train of thought usually is, but I'll just leave it alone.

I will say that pretty much everyone I come in contact with loves me and wants to hang out/be my friend...family members who want me around all the time...but for the most part, I hate myself so much that I just prefer to be alone.

My brain is fucked...and it was this way long before the weed. Like Prince said, "Dont abuse your children or they'll turn out like me."

height n nose

before i finished the story i knew it was by imagio....

I CAN but outside osf sex, i hate exersise...

Eyes and I'd win the lottery

nursev said:

Eyes and I'd win the lottery

ain't shit wrong wit yo eyes

I REALLY DO LOOK THIS GOOD!!!

KingBAD said:

nursev said:

Eyes and I'd win the lottery

ain't shit wrong wit yo eyes

I REALLY DO LOOK THIS GOOD!!!

Imma need another drink

I would love love LOVE to be a person that can fall asleep just like that

nursev said:

KingBAD said:

ain't shit wrong wit yo eyes

I REALLY DO LOOK THIS GOOD!!!

Imma need another drink

Maybe TWO.

StonedImmaculate said:

POSITIVITY.

I find the negative in everything. There's always something wrong. I could write paragraphs about how fucked up my train of thought usually is, but I'll just leave it alone.

I will say that pretty much everyone I come in contact with loves me and wants to hang out/be my friend...family members who want me around all the time...but for the most part, I hate myself so much that I just prefer to be alone.

My brain is fucked...and it was this way long before the weed. Like Prince said, "Dont abuse your children or they'll turn out like me."

ZombieKitten said:

I would love love LOVE to be a person that can fall asleep just like that

I am, usually, but when I'm stressed out it takes me forever to fall asleep.

Tell the master to take care of business so you can

PurpleJedi said:

ZombieKitten said:

I would love love LOVE to be a person that can fall asleep just like that

I am, usually, but when I'm stressed out it takes me forever to fall asleep.

Tell the master to take care of business so you can

uh, no I'm a morning person

any of that pushing and shoving before bedtime makes me way too wired to sleep

He's actually not here on the nights I can't sleep, I think that's one of the reasons I can't sleep - him not being here, that and his bulldozer snoring as soon as he returns = a 2 hour night's sleep for me