It always just starts as me not feeling good.
Then it’s 11:00 p.m. – I’m working on a project for work. It’s 12:00 a.m. and I’m telling myself I should get in bed.
I don’t even necessarily not feel ‘good’ anymore. I just feel lost.
I’ve generally felt lost for a few months now. Like I’m not quite where I am supposed to be.
Like I’m always just a few minutes too early or a few minutes too late.
I walk into a room and even if it’s in my own house it’s like the air is just a little thick.
Like something big just happened and I missed it.
Like someone I love just left the room, or is still there… lingering. I just can’t see them.
Then it’s 1:00 a.m. and I feel this magnetic pull to come here and spill my guts.
Because the reality is if you called me at 10:00 a.m. I would probably be either cheery and be ‘fine’ or be stressed with work.
I would never tell you how I really feel.
Not because I want to be inauthentic – sometimes I just don’t know what to do with what I’m feeling so why ask you to try to get it.
Plus the usual dollar store dribble about ‘being here for me’ is just something we say to fill a void.
If you wanted to be here – you would.
It’s 2:00 a.m. and I feel like seeking something.
I get this sudden urge to empty all of my cupboards and scrub them clean.
Like if my fucking cupboards are clean my brain won’t feel so messy.
I desperately want to blare my music. I need to blast out the sound of your heart beat.
The melody of my womb and the thump thump thump of your small heart.
It plays over and over and over again. Like a carousel I can’t get off.
I haven’t gone to the closet for some time now. I haven’t smelled the shampoo and lotions.
In a way they have lost their comfort. They don’t feel soft and warm any more. They feel cold. My arms just feel heavy and empty after I give in.
It’s 2:30 a.m. and now I’m deciding whether or not I take a few Vistaril to facilitate some sleep.
I have to be up in a few hours to do it all over again.
And I will.
Because it’s what I have to do.