Bedtime

For a while now my favourite part of the day has been the part where I climb into my bed to go to sleep, and my least favourite part is when I have to wake up, and get up.

All in all my bed has pretty much become my favourite place.

I'm pretty certain this is not a good thing. I mean I am aware of the fact that my mother is already getting increasingly worried about my lack of social life, and she is not alone is thinking maybe professional help could do be good.

Not that I'm against the idea of professional help. There's nothing wrong with it, it's just that it's never nice to realise that your family thinks that there might be a screw loose in your head.

That being said I don't think anyone who knows me would really be surprised. Or rather they would be surprised only that it took me so long to realise that not all was entirely normal in my way of avoiding interacting with large amounts of people. Or people in general really.

So I do spend a lot of my time alone, in my bedroom, on my bed reading or surfing the Internet (or more honestly looking up funny pictures of cats on Tumblr).

I love my bed. I feel safe and warm there, like no one can hurt me. A classic reaction to the big bad world really. After all, all children know that if they hid under the covers of their beds the monsters can't get them.