It could be from the thought tornado whirling around in my head, or the excessive amount of beer I consumed tonight. I don’t know why I’m letting life get to me. Lately, I’ve been waking up in the late afternoon morning just feeling completely stressed out. I wish my sweet man were here. He always finds a way to convince a laugh or a smile out of me, whether it be with a silly accent or an unwarranted compliment. And he is just ever so understanding about how terrible I am at receiving and giving compliments. Wow, this is quickly becoming a directionless ramble. Time to hop off tumblr, chug some water, and cuddle up with my kitten for bedtime. Night tumblr.
"I love sleep. My life has the tendency to fall apart when I’m awake, you know?"
— Ernest Hemingway (via savasana)
(Source: spektacular, via savasana)
I can appreciate what its trying to do for me, but I’m not sure what the end game is supposed to be. It would seem that my subconscious has recently put a system in place that I am wholly against. Whenever my life has me reeling, on my knees begging for mercy, my dreams are overflowing with positivity. I suppose it’s a nice break. Unfortunately, this makes me want to sleep all the more to avoid life’s troubles, which leads to me over-sleeping and making matters worse. On the flip side, when life is running smoothly my dreams take on another nature. They become stressful and sad. I keep having these reoccurring work nightmares where I’m serving tables and I’m getting more overwhelmed, more and more weeded, and the restaurant just keeps growing in size; Customers are yelling at me, my managers are yelling at me, the cooks are yelling at me. Just terrible. What an awful feeling to wake up swimming in sweat, having worked all night, having only made dream cash, which apparently is not usable for spending during waking hours, and feeling like I haven’t slept at all (and like I need a shower). Consequently, when life is going well I end up right where I am. Lying in bed at 7am, watching the sunrise, too scared to sleep and too tired to do anything else. In conclusion, when life is a mess I’m constantly groggy from sleeping too much and when life is grand I’m constantly groggy from not sleeping enough. Perhaps I’ll just get used to life groggy.
February 23, 2012.
6:00 AM
Late at night sometimes I miss him. The deep silky calm of his voice, even when the words were harsh, it felt as if sweeter sounds were never heard. The harshness I do not and will not ever miss, but he like no other could wash away panic with waves of calming clarity. Sometimes I miss his ungodly air of all-knowing, even if it were born of falsehoods and maintained through cons and lies. Sometimes all a girl wants for is a pretty lie to coax her to sleep. Would I be happier had I never seen through the window he so carefully painted over? The picture he drew was bleak, but beautiful in the way that only truly sad things could be. Is it better to see through clear panes into a lonely reality? Likely. Perhaps I would be happier with a beautiful lie in competition with an ugly truth. I am a fool with too much sense to do myself any good. And he is a fool with not enough sense to do himself any good. I am a fool who misses a fool. At the very heart of it all, I simply and truly miss his words. They were often times too many, and cruel with an alarming frequency, but they were ever present and there is something indescribably comforting about that kind of consistency. I think about him and his damnable words more than I care to confess to and I yearn for the days when he doesn’t come to mind during the torturous hours when I try to find sleep. Sometimes I fear one day I will be utterly consumed by panic and stricken by helplessness and not a soul will be able to comfort me, including and least of all myself. I’ll feel as if I need him terribly despite myself and much to my despair. Yet, he will be nowhere to be found. Even if he could help, he wouldn’t. Not now. I believe him to be spiteful in this way. Although considering the way of things, I doubt I could blame him. I would have liked to remain close if I thought it were at all possible. However, i feel that I know it is not. We will never be close again; and sometimes I wonder if we were ever really close at all.
"I think it’s very healthy to spend time alone. You need to know how to be alone and not be defined by another person."
— Oscar Wilde (via follin)
(Source: nerosion, via wherestheoffbutton)
