Nights of Cydonia and Their Sarcasm

Mood: Silky
Listening to: Just Un Rêve, Frenchie
Reading: Descent into the Maelström, Edgar Allan Poe
Eating: Sushi
Drinking: Tall Double Toffee Nut Latte
There is so much sugar in this latte--I think my immune system is going to go into a very determined nosedive. The two shots of espresso aren't going to help my liver, either. But I am very tired.
I seem to have been tired for the past month. I don't know why, because it's only been the past couple weeks that I've gone insomniac, I'm also getting more exercise and everything. I'm meant to be hungrier and more energized, or at least better capable of deep sleep.
Maybe I've caused myself to learn on a crutch by falling asleep, for the past year, by listening to someone reading. I've blazed through FJWLs, letters, audiobooks--everything. Bah. I shall work out harder. I shall go to sleep surrounded by nothing but the sound of the wind, and my own thoughts (now there's a frightening proposition).
Anyhow, I want to whinge about something. I can't smile properly anymore. And no, I'm not talking about some ridiculous emo nonsense. I ate a rather sharp piece of toast the other morning, and nicked a slice in the corner of my lip, a little deeper than a paper cut. I can't stop running my tongue into it, which prevents it from healing, and if I smile, it cracks a little more, or at least feels like it. Anyhow, I have horrible (and completely exaggerated) visions of my cheek splitting open along the fault of this toonsy little slice, tearing my face open to the jawbone. So I'm reduced to this closemouthed smirk, which, admittedly, comes more naturally anyhow.
Also, every now and again, I have little revelations concerning just how completely bizarre some things about me are. My name, for one. Lord, but it is strange.
And I have dimples. My mum always specifically wanted a child with dimples, and voilà! She got me! In retrospect, she probably wishes she prayed down a little more respect for authority and self-restraint while she was at it, and maybe a little less narcissism, but PTL, He knows best.
But back to the subject at hand. That is, my dimples. Bugh. Yes. Well, they used to be very prominent when I was little (no cracks about my height. I'm warning you), because I had chub. But now that I'm all sleek and long-cheekboned, one has nearly disappeared, while the other only makes its presence apparent when I produce said smirk. So I had nearly forgotten about my made-to-order dimples, till someone brought them to my attention yesterday. Fortunately, they weren't daft enough to say, 'oh, look, you have dimples,' because that likely would have caused me to burst into tears for their sheer stupidity. Instead, I got a very polite, 'oh, your dimples are cute,' which caused me to restrain a tooth-baring, cheek-ripping grin (all for the best--it's terrifying), smirk politely, and thank them. To which they said, 'look, there it is again!' At which I burst, promptly, into tears.