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Sleep Deprivation is a good thing... isn't it?
I mean, at four in the morning, there's a whole world out there. If you've worked the whole night in the comforting silence of everyone else's dreams, you get this uncanny feeling of indestructibility. You start thinking that you don't actually need sleep and should stay awake to make better use of your time. You know, to be efficient.
In fact, it's quite uplifting. When dawn comes, a blue aura in the sky, there's this fragmented hope which is never quite submerged by the fact that things aren't quite as they seem.
In fact, this feeling just grows and grows, until you stop thinking about the fact that you need sleep and start talking to anyone who'll listen (which is, unfortunately, either yourself or an inanimate object) about how great you are, while all the things in the sides of your vision start distorting slightly, like a fire is burning beneath them.

I'll digress, since this is the first entry in my new journal. I suppose I could write about myself, who I am, and all those kind of things, but I dislike detailing. I prefer vague abstractions.
So, who am I?
A girl, teenager, student, artist, writer, web designer. I have brown hair and blue eyes. When asked for a purpose in life I reply that it is based around the acquisition of paperclips, but while I am being serious, I am also lying.
I tend to embelish the truth a lot, and I'd like to think it's because I'm imaginative, but I'm actually just very bored. Not with things to do, because I can keep myself busy, but with retelling the past.
Perhaps it's a device to make myself feel like I have control, changing the past, just because it's so immobile, but again, I think I just get bored.

The best thing about being tired is the things you think you can see or do. Often I become convinced I can see the wind if I stare hard enough, which is a fairly interesting delusion to have. I don't get delusions of grandeur, which is probably good, but I do feel more positively about myself when I'm tired enough to pass out. Even if it's only that I haven't passed out yet, that's still something.
By seven in the morning, when the rest of my family was up, I was manic. For the first time in my short life, I wanted to go to school, and even now, a day later, I can't remember why. I think I had decided I was unbelievably amusing, or something equally unlikely. Luckily for me, I was rational enough to see that I should probably take the opportunity to miss school.
I wonder what would have happened though. I'm pretty sure I would have ended up slumped on my desk in the science lab by third period, when I had physics. People would probably have laughed and I would wake up, confused and disorientated, convinced I was Napoleon.
I suppose the moral is that I should probably either not stay awake all night, or renounce my status as a diurnal creature and sleep during the day, but I have a vague feeling that there is no moral.
Quite sad really.