tossing and turning
Last night at 2 AM after tossing and turning in bed for a couple of hours I told myself "will you at least try to remember what bothers you at night when you go to sleep tomorrow morning, and write it down?" and I almost forgot, honestly. I had been scratching my head for an hour thinking about the causes of evil, if someone was going to break a window of my car, the chances of someone breaking into my house. All of that, in the span of minutes. The fan buzzed loudly, turning its head back and forth through the room while my nape sweated.
I guess I'm no longer a good sleeper. I can't remember if I ever was, to be honest. I've been thinking about this thing, this particular thing that always seems to be hanging around: there's something about me that is just not right. It's just not, it hasn't been, ever. I'm just realizing that now, maybe. At almost 27 I'm seeing myself for what I am.
There's this vertigo around growing old, and I see it when I turn on the stove to cook dinner. I feel it in the air when I play a Tony Bennett record at night. I can taste it in the back of my tongue when the food needs more salt. One day, we'll go. And what's worse than that is that time will march on, and at some point, there will be no trace of us. We will have never existed.
I don't mean I need to leave a mark to be remembered, to be honest I don't care. However, it's just so difficult to focus on today, what's mine and what's here, when there's something some much more powerful overriding everything I can ever do. It's cruel to think ahead for so long, maybe even borderline stupid - I can't do anything about it. I can't stop it. I can't just... not die.
There's so much in my life, and there's so much that is so beautiful. I have the most beautiful partner in the whole world. He's my best friend, he's the love of my life, he's such a sweet boy and a handsome man. I have amazing friends, who love me and listen to me, whom I see very frequently. I have a job that values me, an apartment that has natural light. I have both of my parents AND step parents, all who love me, especially my mom who's the most wonderful woman I've ever met. I have so much more than just people, I have records, I have clothes I love, I have beautiful skin. I have a talent, I have the moon. Yet this stays here, with me. It doesn't go anywhere. Even the moon.
When I go to bed at night and lay my head on the pillow I'm terrified of the in between. What happens when I'm just suddenly not there. I feel like I'm losing control. Maybe I should go back to Ambien, but it was too disorienting. It's dark, I might not look like I'm in this dark unfamiliar territory but to be honest, most of the time I am. There's a few friends that know this, but I feel like I've only scratched the surface. Even my therapist thinks I'm good, because honestly, I am. It's just this... thing, that hangs around. That lingers.
When I tie my hair up in a bun I feel a swift breeze of my perfume. I put it there this morning before work, and I was out all day, then I came back and showered. Yet, the smell persists. It stays with me, a reminder that I've lived a another day. Feels like a present from my former self.
Anyway, don't let this fool you: I am hopeful. I believe in the great things in life. I spent some time in the dark, when I didn't believe in anything. But time taught me that a life without hope is like a cracker with no salt. You know there's something there and it'll fill you up, but there's no taste, no substance. I am hopeful and I can turn things around, I can learn to sleep. I can earn my rest. There's time, I guess, to at least understand what how I am meant to be me.