I am Jack's complete lack of sleep
I hate it when I can't get to sleep, as happened last night, hence the languid nature of my writing today.
I'm not a chronic insomniac. It only happens every now and then. It's not like it's causing any severe mental short-circuiting. I know this, because Tyler knows this.
I get so wound up, I end up seething within myself, climbing the walls of my skull, and most of it is my fault. I end up not even giving sleep a chance to take hold. I could easily tick off the Starbie sleep-aid boxes - drink some hot milk, have a crafty whisky, tuck into some sandwiches, take a dump, put my Walkman on, wrap a pillow round my head - all proven to send me to the land of nod.
But no. It turns me into someone I don't like, as I throw blame everywhere apart from where it should reside - within myself.
I always feel that my proudest virtue is my consideration for others, but as my poor, sleep-deprived girlfriend could attest, having had to put up with my whinging last night, I can be a selfish twunt at times.