Insomnia

New Years day 2009. 4pm. The majority of people are lying in their beds, welcoming that feeling of horrific resentment caused by that pathetic come on they put on the person they've been in love with for the whole of 2008, or the relationship threatening argument they had at their oldest and dearest friend because the fiend criticised their shoes, or the beating they put on the poor sucker who just happened to be breathing the same air around them when their irrational anger inevitably reared its ugly head. Most people re not, however, still up partying. That's because its a ridiculous thing to do. The nights peaked, every one has gone to bed and are in tremendous pain from the standard 75 units consumed. So why the fuck do some people think it's a good idea?
4pm in my humble flat and their I lay, trying to get back to sleep and ignore that pressing feeling of regret and self loathing. But I can't because a bus-full of morons are playing useless Norwegian techno music at a level even deaf people can here, having not stopped since I went to bed 9 hours before. Several things had happened in those 9 hours including another of my flatmates coming home in the morning and was unable to go to the toilet as there was a couple of fuckers in their doing cocaine in there. .. . . WHY? Isn't that one of the beauties of living in your own house, being able to do cocaine anywhere? Our fucking desks aren't giant mirrors for Christ's sake!
So back to 4pm and I've decided enough is enough. I head upstairs expecting to argue with many, put my head round the door and there are two guys barely awake looking awkwardly around the room. everyone else look like they've been roofied up, slumped over on any tiny patch of bed or floor they can find. The music is still being played at a level that would offend the most debouched of sex offenders. One of the awake guy's looks up at me, a disgusting drip of drool hanging from a crusty corner of has pastey face 'al''igh bra'?' he mumbles. 'Can you turn it down now please mate' I reply in my cowardly politeness. 'uhhh...' I take that as a yes and leave. Does it stop? Fuck no!
The group of ameba's eventually shut up at 9pm and most disperse into the cold 2009 air hopefully to never be seen again. But it got me thinking what makes people do this kind of thing?
I could hit a club, busts some shapes, shoot some tequilas, get a free blow job from a prostitute, who as it turns out is an undercover cop who's just really into me, and be in bed by 11.30. Who had the better night? Okay so the low job thing's never happened, but my social life has got to be better than taking it in shifts to stay awake and seem 'crazy' whilst subsequently pissing off half the population of Europe, plus ruining what should be a day of rest for everyone, simultaneously killing off any lingering brain cells that might have been threatening to produce cognitive thought.
My only guess is that these types of people have so little substance to there personalities that something is ridiculously stupid as partying for 26 hours straight, even if you clearly don't want to and clearly can't handle it, makes them feel 'wild' and 'unique'. Even if everyone else thinks you look like a dick head.