Still awake (only just)

I am sitting in my kitchen as I write this, my mind clogged up with what feels like years of events. It's almost as if my entire life is dictated by words, and yet, I find the most comfort in them also. It's bizarre. Work was fairly boring this evening, but I could barely stand up because I am so utterly exhausted. I had planned on being in bed at ten o'clock, lulled (hopefully) into a sweet slumber by the strains of whatever Radiohead album happens to be in my CD player today (I think it might be OK Computer, but I can't be sure). Unfortunately, I have yet another lot of work to do before I even think about climbing under the covers and letting my aching body rest. And I have a million things running through my mind too. I ended up apologising to people whom I have been short with recently, and receiving either no response, or a simple shrug as if it meant nothing to begin with. I find it incredible that what seems like the most heartless thing in the world can be forgiven in a moment by a friend who knows me well...or maybe those people didn't care much to begin with... I still cannot figure out those I want to the most. I still like the same guy and the same girl that I have done all summer, and although I like both of them equally, there is something undeniably entrancing about one of them that just makes me feel like a spa no matter what I do or say...and so I am sitting here, wondering whether or not I'm even going to get to sleep tonight, or if I will in fact toss and turn with only Thom Yorke's voice and the knowledge of the slowly passing minutes to soothe me... If all else fails, I suppose I'll just end up writing for the night...