5. “Ne Me Quitte Pas” by Nina Simone (Jacques Brel cover)
Since quitting drinking, Ambien is the only thing that can lull you to sleep. Quick, effective, and less of a hangover in the morning. You decide that both your brain and body feel better and you go with it. While you’ve been making a conscious effort to walk along a straight and narrow path, you can justify replacing drugs and alcohol with pharmaceuticals.
The Ambien does, you notice, effect your dreams, and each dream is intense, vivid, and bizarre. Last night’s dream was no exception.
In the dream, you lit a post-coital smoke while next to The Ex in the bed you shared together. Naked, awash in afterglow, you lied on your back, taking long drags of a Parliament Light 100, the signature brand of the ex before The Ex, He Who Shall Not Be Named. It was a vivid dream. You could see the smoke swirling above you, forming familiar shapes. For a moment, they were like cloud forms. You took another drag and exhaled deeply towards the sky again. The Ex was lying next to you on his stomach, head turned to the side, watching you smoke. His face was neutral, not disgusted, as if he was looking past the cigarette and at you, deep into you. You’re not cuddling, but your bodies are pressed against one another’s. The cold, sweaty clamminess of his skin feels too real.
Continue reading “Under Covers, A Playlist.”
Some days, I just want to spin a globe, pick a random place on its face, and make a plan.
I feel suffocated by everything here. I would say everyone as well, but that wouldn’t be accurate. To be exact, it’s more like 90%; my friends and siblings have provided me with just enough air to survive. For the past few days, or even weeks, I’ve fantasized about starting over somewhere new, even going as far as adopting a new name and appearance to fully abandon my former life and self. For the record, my life isn’t terrible and I am not a monster. That being said, depression is the lens with which I am looking through things these days, and unfortunately, it all looks like shit.
Continue reading “Elsewhere”
I woke up just after 5 AM to use the restroom, and I’ve been awake ever since. Waking up and feeling wide awake this early breeds an immense amount of sleep insecurity; I’m too afraid to go back to sleep for fear of oversleeping. I parked in a tow away zone on a street cleaning day, which means I have to move my car before 11 AM. Because it is my day off, there is absolutely no guarantee that I’ll be awake.
Anxiety keeps me awake; it’s driving me to update my LinkedIn profile and clean up my resume. I’ve fallen out of love with my job and need something new to challenge me. It’s now 5:23 AM and my thoughts are racing with possibility. Who will I be next?
I had terrible insomnia when I was with my ex. We would fall asleep together most nights. There were points in the relationship in which I would fall asleep before him and he would turn in hours later, after having played video games to some degree of satisfaction. But without fail, I would inevitably awake at 3 AM, and from 3 AM until 6 AM, I would be alone with my thoughts. Sometimes, I’d write. Sometimes I would prepare meals for the next few days. Mostly I wandered around our small studio apartment in the dark, tripping on things. When I did smoke cigarettes, I enjoyed sitting outside in the cool night air, smoking cigarette after cigarette until some feelings of sleepiness would hit me. I’d then crawl back into bed, at which point my ex would roll over and wrap his arms around me, and I’d manage another hour or two of sleep.
It’s almost 6 AM and I’m fading, falling asleep sitting upright.
I miss intimacy. I miss that feeling of holding a partner, that feeling of closeness, but I haven’t put forth any effort to find that feeling. Admittedly, I have hookups here and there, but let’s be honest: sex isn’t intimacy. Sex doesn’t replace that feeling of being able to look into a partner’s eyes and feel deeply understood at a core level.
All in due time.
When I said I wanted to write every day, I meant it!
Waking up this morning was a struggle. My insomnia got the better of me last night, and by the time I was able to achieve some meaningful sleep, it was time to get out of bed and start the day. I felt awful, both physically and mentally. My brother’s cat attempted to coerce me out of bed by pawing at my face, but to not avail.
There does come a point in the day when productivity is the only acceptable option. I managed to get out of bed, remembering that I promised my roommate that I would go to Target to exchange the lamp that she had purchased for a functional one. I forced myself to take a shower, put on my adult costume, and went out. I try to keep my word whenever possible, and I had to make good on my promise.
I saw Captain Coping Skills (formerly The Polyamorous Neurotic) for dinner this evening. He took me out as a show of gratitude for all that I’ve done for him. We talked about future intentions quite a bit. We both want to get out of retail. We both want more from our lives. We became emotional when talking about his move across the country.
I’m numb this evening. I’ve been working on a few things here and there, but I’m not feeling very much of anything and I prefer it at the moment.
Tomorrow is a new day and that will bring a new post. Until then, sleep well and have a Smiths song before bed.
See, I have this roommate.
We don’t talk very much, and oftentimes I’m intimidated by her (specifically, her intelligence). I think she has a beautiful mind and she strikes me as the kind of person that can teach me a thing or two if I am open to learning.
At two in the morning on Sunday, after walking Captain Coping Skills (formerly The Polyamorous Neurotic) to his car (which is another story for another time), she made me tea and we chatted one-on-one for the first time since her return from her home country. She asked me to explain the relationship between Captain Coping Skills and myself. I told her that we were lovers; there wasn’t anything romantic happening between us. I fancied a fuck and he was there, sometimes, when he wasn’t drinking himself into oblivion.
Continue reading “On “Doing.””
My ex and I have been amicable since our separation in February. In fact, I regard him as one of my best friends. He knows me better than most people, and as a result, I still involve him in my decision-making processes when I’m faced with tough life stuff. He’s been very vocal in our ongoing conversation about my career change, and I appreciate him for that.
Life has been kind of hectic since he started working downtown. His commute eats up his day and his job eats up most of his energy, and we have been talking less and less over the last week weeks. Last night, realizing I’d be able to close the shop up on-time, I asked him if he’d like to meet up for dinner. He agreed. It had been too long between visits.
Continue reading “Just Friends.”
I’m going to make it a point to write as often as possible.
Life is weird and I don’t talk about it much. But I like writing about things in order to process them. I haven’t done it in so long and there is so much that I need to deal with and move on from.
So, yes, that’s a thing I’m going to do. Here we go.