some type of euphoria

ignorance is bliss, they say, and to some extent i believe that. i probably wouldnt use that exact word, but it is certainly something parallel...overthinkers never sleep peacefully, they have an uncontrolled compulsion to keep their eyes glued open.
i never get enough sleep and even when i catch up, i still feel behind, it has never balanced itself out, for all of my life. i am an unapolgetic night owl, a shadow lurker, and that status is not without its consequences. even when i will myself to go to bed early, my body or my mind, whichever, on its own volition refuses to shut down or off. i'd say its more so my body, because my mind is usually anxious to begin its nighttime dreamwork, live out its higher existence for a few. it is also social in some aspect - because i work or go to school all day, all things routine or enjoyable in my personal life must be executed in the evening. working 9 to 5 is a sad situation. nothing gets done. im at work all day, and the precise time i get off is the precise time that all things business-oriented shut down. i have to find creative ways to, say, take my car to the shop or get to an appointment. sucks. at least during the school year, i get breaks between class to do what needs to be done or take a nap. now, by the time i get home, i want nothing more than to crawl into bed and do nothing more. i dont know what my point is/was.
i'm feeling un-revolutionary this year, unsual for me given the holiday. usually i'd be preparing my usual holiday text or blog, attempting to preach the true significance and nature of the independence day irony. but...i just dont feel like it this year. i have other things on my mind, truthfully, and i am in the midst of reassessing my values and views on certain things pertaining to the community that i culturally and socially identify with, given recent experiences. i may not ever be able to wrap my head around my own mind on it to produce a coherent, definitive stance on things. never. my emotions are haywire on the state of blackness, extremely dichotomous in my position as i am all observer and intervenor and participant, as i feel both a sense of pity and anger, sorrow and hope and hopelessness. but, in spite of my ambivalence, i find it impossible to remain disconnected or detached, and i can never turn my back. my socially constructed identity has created an invisible, unshakeable connection, and that connection begets responsibility, for better or worse, until some form of death takes my vessel from this mode of reality.