Hatred Sleep: The Devastating Condition You Probably Have

by bernquist

Hatred Sleep

Expressions of reckless despair are often manifested in patients suffering from hatred sleep.

 

It affects over 74 percent of all Americans between the ages of 18 and 85 according to a recent study that was never conducted by anyone. You feel normal, maybe a little lethargic but not out of the ordinary. You might be watching TV, drinking beer, eating some chips, maybe even reading a book if you aren’t worthless. Everything is going great, well not great but just ok.

Then it happens. You fall asleep for ten, maybe thirty minutes, maybe longer. You’re fully clothed. You’re usually on a couch or sitting in some sort of wooden chair. It is after 7 p.m. but could also be before this. You’re usually wearing something that is extraordinarily uncomfortable to sleep in, like jeans that struggle to contain your morbid obesity. The sleep is not a complete sleep, but a sort of netherworld between actual sleep and real consciousness. There may be dreams. If there are dreams the dreams are not good. You might hear people talking around you about some stupid thing they saw on Pinterest, or the voice of Bill O’Reilly screeching forth from some distant land populated by tusk stumps and cotton candy.

You open your eyes and realize what has just occurred. You feel terrible about yourself and all of your life’s accomplishments. You surmise that everything you have ever done serves literally no purpose and that you will continue to be useless forever and are hopelessly entrapped in a giant brown spiderweb of perpetual despair. You may get the sensation that a huge land-dwelling yellow manta ray is lurking somewhere in the home, waiting to do whatever he feels he wants to do with or to you.

You untwist your pants and wander to the bathroom where you see in your reflection that your couch has left a delightful crimson creasy stamp on your face and bestowed upon you the gift of dead cat hair. You don’t fall asleep again for many minutes, maybe hours, but just return to where you were sleeping, usually in utter darkness, and ruminate on the unthinkable horrors that have occurred and on the revelation that there is little hope of attaining any sort of marketable skills.

This is hatred sleep. And you have probably had it. There is no cure for hatred sleep. If you are unfortunate enough to be among the afflicted, health officials advise that acceptance of the fact that hatred sleep will continue forever is the best course of treatment. Thousands of methods have been tested over the past decade alone, but so far none have yielded statistically significant results in abating the hatred sleep.

Tested treatments include liking stuff more, developing enthusiasm about anything, eating at least one albatross meat sandwich per week, convincing a helicopter of any variety to land on your face, deciding to hate everything less, having hobbies that do not include Netflix and or eating, lighting Janet Reno’s pants on fire, commuting to and from work on a live walrus, commuting to and from work inside of a live armadillo, never having cats as pets, adopting a bright orange rhombus from the zoo, quitting your job, forgetting that Miley Cyrus has more money than you, allowing a horse into your life to pretend he is your best friend, finding out what a PORB is, going on an all inclusive vacation to the ham volcano, and flossing with a brown reclusive spider web.

Do not try any of these options as most will kill you. Welcome the hatred sleep and embrace it. Only then will you have true solace.

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