Sleepless nights and parasitic butterflies.

It's raining! The drought has ended! My tomatoes are saved! Rejoice!
Just before lunch, I opened up the windows and back door to hear the rain, but my sister closed them because she thought it was too humid.

Summer nights can be just as sleepless as school nights.

Some nights, I start thinking about every breath I take, and I wonder if my breathing is perhaps too shallow.
I try taking a few deep breaths, but I'm afraid I'll hyperventilate.
Is it my inhaler? Is 4 times a day too much? Is it not enough?
What if I stop breathing altogether after I fall asleep?
I hold my breath. 30 seconds? Why am I not panting?

I usually stay up until 2 or 3,
at which point I'm too tired to worry about dying anymore.

I've been breathing fine lately.
Last night, I stayed up until 2, trying to think of a story for the first mission of a gothic role-playing game I've just started running.
How about a man whose obsession with hands leads him to cut off the hands of everyone in his neighborhood and hide them in his refrigerator? Maybe a story about human-soul-butterflies that eat flesh and a pale girl without genitals would be better. Maybe it could be about a mute, feral girl who is trapped in a house of flesh-eating butterflies that like human hands. Maybe the party should save her from the house, only to have her burn to death in the rising sun. But how would they kill the hordes of butterflies?

This is all stupid.
I figured I'd do it tomorrow morning.

I dreamed about a lonely carnival at 4 AM and Sigur Ros.
My friend made my sister cry, and I screamed at him and started crying as well. All three of us were crying when my mom came to get us.
I headed to the bathroom, and it was like an airport, and nobody was there.
I looked in the mirror.
I thought my hair almost made me look like a schizophrenic.