Someone at work today said they were tired and hadn’t been sleeping lately.  I said I haven’t slept…ever. She asked why, and I said because I have Tourette’s and can’t be still in bed so it takes me ages and, if I’m woken up, I feel so angry and resentful because I know it means ages again of a new effort at sleeping.  She was shocked and said she wouldn’t have guessed because I look so lovely and fresh and awake all the time (I’m telling you: tons and tons of make-up…and adrenalin).[br][br]That was the end of the conversation, but you know.  Aren’t I amazing at faking it? Faking everything. I seem so normal and quiet to everyone.  And that’s great, I’m glad it’s not like in school when everyone seemed to think it was their duty to point out all my eccentricities, but still…physically right now I’m really falling apart, and no one has a clue.  If I try to explain it, it seems weak, because no one sees any examples of it.  I don’t feel believed. And you know. I hate being seen as weak anyway, so I don’t tell people that often.  I guess I’m my own worst enemy. What a surprise.[br][br]One time I was ticcing so badly, my eyes were just dashing back and forth and I couldn’t see at all, and I slammed right into a post in Topshop.  Then I went home and I didn’t tell anyone. Around midnight I finally mentioned to George that, by the way, this thing happened and I’ve knocked that ligament out of place (the one that was permanently damaged from tics when I was about 13) and I’m in severe pain.  He kept demanding to know why I didn’t mention it sooner.  I kept insisting that I’d just forgotten, and then suddenly I remembered and the pain hit me in full force again.  He just couldn’t understand that. Nor can I really. But that’s just how my brain works. I mean, how am I to explain to anyone that I can go out to lunch, go shopping for the food, browse the charity shop, wander down the roads for a while, then sit on a bench in the park and realise I have no idea how I got to that bench or what I’ve been doing in all that time that my phone clock claims has passed?[br][br]I don’t know what I’m trying to say here.  Really I’m just killing time because I’m clock-watching and going out of my mind with boredom, so I just thought I’d start off a stream of consciousness.  Not sure if it’s quite up there with James Joyce, but there you have it – my contribution for the day.