Critter Comix Week 9 !

(Sarcastic)

I know, logically and scientifically, that sleeping late is bad for me. I am fully aware that if I don’t go to bed at a reasonable hour, my morning will be terrible. I will wake up groggy and disoriented, vaguely upset at the concept of time. And yet, every single night, I choose to do it again.

There’s a very specific moment when I realize I should go to sleep. I’ll check the clock, feel a flash of dread, and think, If I go to bed now, tomorrow could still be okay. That is the moment I should stop everything. That is the moment I never stop.

What makes it worse is that I’m not even enjoying staying up. I’m not doing anything productive or meaningful. I’m just scrolling, rewatching something I’ve already seen, or staring at my ceiling while my brain replays embarrassing moments from years ago. It’s not fun. It’s not restful. It’s purely self-sabotage.

And then morning comes, exactly as predicted. I regret everything. I swear tonight will be different. It won’t be. I will do this again.