Narcolepsy is a chronic sleep disorder, or dyssomnia. The condition is characterized by excessive daytime sleepiness (EDS) in which a person experiences extreme fatigue and possibly falls asleep at inappropriate times, such as while at work or at school. A narcoleptic will most likely experience disturbed nocturnal sleep and also abnormal daytime sleep pattern, which is often confused with insomnia. When a person with narcolepsy falls asleep or goes to bed they will generally experience the REM stage of sleep (rapid eye movement/dreaming state), within 10 minutes; whereas for most people, this shouldn't occur until generally 30 minutes of slumber.

There are objects falling in my head and its not snow, no its not snow, oh no its not snow. Ha no one else gets it but me and my mind. Should I be diagnosed with this one thing I want? Messed up xD Why am I laughing at something people will read and not understand?? Oh well I love to laugh, I love laughing uncontrollably. Insanely. Screaming I love you so and laughing about itxD Walk into class late giggling, ignoring the people around me, content in my own little, twisted world I see things better, or for what they truely are, like knowing all along that she will be the one that we all hate (Shaz gets this part) The one who will be this skank we don't want to touch. Ha. Can one simply walk to Mordour? xD ha ha ah ha ohh he haa ah ha...Don't be sad. Laugh with me. Laugh like I do, alone, when no one can see xD It doesn't matter if your family think your sad, depressed, not sleeping or think your developing and "eating disorder" as long as you can laugh along in your mind and you know your ok then what ever Wow this is really long Thats great, people will get bored and not read mwhaha awesome. When class is quiet smile menacingly at your teacher. Man I am freezing! ps. I still love My Chemical Romance with all my heart A letter of confusion..I wander how much this little writing thing can take, I have to stop being crazy eventually, I can laugh all night. Get that its on the inside. You can't here me I'm sooo happy, I don't know why, everything is perfect. I am right, I swear I'm right, I swear I knew it all along. I think this is the only blog I have not copied and pasted ha cool. I'm gonna make it long hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha
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i t'nac taiw rof acirema, ot teg yawa morf enoyreve. I yltsnoh etah lla fo uoy. Uoy lla yot thiw ym daeh. I t'nod etah LLA eht elpoep ohw dnuorrus em, tola fo meht era yaok, tub I t'naw ot llik ooos yanm fo uoy

Harley Quinn destroyed her entire future when she was fifteen years old.

At age twelve, she was a full-time gymnast, being home-schooled by her obsessive parents, who'd poured tens of thousands of dollars into her training--as well as the salary of her renowned coach, who provided her with various pills to control her weight and hormones. By age fourteen, she was preparing for the Nationals, and was all but guaranteed a spot in the next Olympics.

But Harley had made other plans.

She'd learned enough to understand that her career would be over before the age of sixteen, due to either injury or the advent of puberty. Harley was prepared to sacrifice herself to give her parents the true test of unconditional love.

While competing at the Nationals, she was finishing her final vault and while airborne, she angled her landing off by only a quarter of an inch, but it was enough: she crashed and crumpled to the mat like a broken ceramic doll (she'd later learn she had torn a tendon, and broken her ankle in two places). Harley's coach fought past the flashing cameras, picked her up from the mat, and carried her like a bridegroom into the locker room.

Once they were alone, he slapped her. Instinctively, Harley swung out with her remaining good foot, and kicked her coach squarely in the crotch.

And with that, her gymnastics career was over.

Harley's parents never forgave her.

When Harley finished telling the Joker the story, he laughed until he had a stitch in his side. That raspy, chilling cackle was, for some reason, the greatest praise she had ever received.

Suddenly, he stopped laughing and sat up. "Which ankle?" he asked.

"My left," Harley whispered. "I had three surgeries."

"Show me," said the Joker. His voice took on an eerie, hollow quality. "Show me the scars."

With cold, shaking fingers, Harley pulled down her sock to reveal the waxy, ridged scar tissue criss-crossing her calf and ankle. The Joker kneeled down to examine it more closely. Without taking his eyes off her ankle, he deftly removed the switchblade from his coat pocket and flipped out the blade.

Harley's breathing grew shallow. She began to reason with herself: I'm his anyways, if he takes my foot, he's only taking what already belongs to him.

But he did not take off her foot. Instead, the Joker used the blade to carve a ragged letter J deep into the scar tissue above her ankle. It hurt, it bled profusely, soaking her sock, and his hands. And it was strange-- the first time he had ever touched her, was to cut her.

"There," the Joker said, his voice seeming to come from nowhere, "Now you wear my scar, instead of theirs."

Harley watched as he stood, and in a dramatic gesture, smeared his bloody fingers across his deaths-head-grin. Her blood as his makeup.

And Harley then determined that if he ever needed her to burn the sky, to drown the world, to cut out the Batman's heart, she would surely find a way to do it.

(as always, Joker and Harley are copyright DC comics, etc , etc, and this story takes place in the Nolanized Dark Knight universe. Incidentally, this young Harley grows up to become this grown-up Harley.)