It's been 44 hours since I last touched a bed; much of the (childish) excitement at spending a night out in the open and trying to keep wide awake wore off as the cold, chilly north winds blew hard, freezing me, leaving me with nowhere to run from the freezing cold.

It's terrifying, the cold; while you can get respite from the heat simply by taking your clothes off, dunking your head in water, drinking generous amounts of ice-cold fluids, the cold is something completely different. There's no running away from it--it envelopes you completely, penetrates your skin, and reaches where you cannot.

It's terrifying.

Anyhow, it was rather silly, frankly, being excited at the prospect of staying away from the comfortable bed of my bunk back in camp for a night--7 days away from the comforts of a bunk at field camp in BMT, without showering and all, should have taught me that--but somehow, the memories of those days eluded me. Haha.

I remember, years back, back when I was in secondary 1 and 2 in CHS, when the idea staying awake through the night brought me into fits of excitement and anticipation, as I thought eagerly of the midnight computer gaming sessions in the school's computer labs, of the crazy games of block-catching and capture-the-flag along the countless dark, endless corridors on the CHS campus, and all.

Even if I could never stay awake through the night--I'd fall asleep come 2, 3am, my eyes unable to stay open--I'd still look forward to those rare treats with great expectation and childishly impatient eagerness.

Fun, and staying awake through the night, were no longer corelated ideas, later on, as I stayed up through the night mugging for my O Levels, finishing TYSes as I ate and lived off caffiene, rushing through urgent projects for school, and all. They were stressful times, my entire body and mind alert and wide awake through long, dark, quiet nights, as pressure and the compelling need to perform pushed me to do what I needed to do.

Staying awake, too, became associated with, loneliness, as I stayed up, surfing aimlessly through the weblogs and online diaries of others, lapping up everything others wrote voraciously, living the lives of others vicarously through their words--waiting, waiting, and waiting for the rare friend or two to talk to, who'd almost never come. Staying awake has no more been memories of 谈天谈通霄, as it was before.

These days, I'd sacrifice my sleep for next to nothing--sleep's become a rare luxury for me, and I sleep more, and more, at home, and in camp, and in fact, everywhere.

Of late, sleep is no longer as satiating and restful for me as it used to be--when I could get away with 4, 5 hours of sleep everyday for a week and still be mentally and physically alert to deal with the challenges of living each day.

I sleep 7, 8 hours a day, and still sleep throughout the day--before meals, after meals, at the computer in my office in camp--and it still isn't enough; I go through my days in a daze, my entire body permanently tingling from the lack of sleep, my muscles permanently exhausted.

I'm no longer living; I'm just a zombie these days, drifting through the days.

Poor sleep is as terrifying as the cold--there's no running away from it; you lose control of yourself, of your life, as you can no longer do anything productive, anything meaningful; you can no longer feel anything, because before you can, you're fast asleep.

It's agonizing.

I hope this cold lifts soon, that it gives way to warmer, more awake days soon, when I can live, and be alive (and not asleep).