I Should Sleep Now

Hector and I talked all night. He listened as I talked about my dad and my writing plans. Though I still never admitted to this blog it was on the tip of my tongue more than once

I listened to him ramble at his usual speed. High or not, he talks really fast sometimes and it messes with my speck of an attention span

We were very high

No sooner than the line was up his nose he was off about everything and anything as he poured a line for me

“We are all Gods, you know” he said as he dabbed his cigarette butt into what was left of my line when I was done “Not full Gods. We couldn’t handle that. It’s like your stories. We can create beautiful things…”

His thought was interrupted by another line

“Like babies?” I asked

I have to finish his thoughts sometimes even if that wasn’t what was going to come out of his mouth. I love his mind but I have all but given up on my boyfriend being completely sane. He’s probably not crazy, I guess. A little manic sometimes. Eccentric? Very

All I wanted to do was make love

I just sat there and smiled and waited for a time that wasn’t coming

Wondering if he loved me

Wondering if I was ugly

All of the stupid things that dumb girls think

I held the back of my neck a lot. About as often as I secretly checked my pulse in my wrist under the table.

I wondered if my haircut was too short. Mom was paying so I didn’t pass it up. It is a very drastic change. The dye job I did on myself is terrible. I tried to go completely blonde but it wouldn’t go any further than a dingy looking blonde that refused to cover my black roots

Maybe he didn’t like it

Maybe I didn’t look the same

It’s a terrible thing when the cocaine runs out. Right up there with heartbreak. Just below the regret of the worst thing you have ever done in your life

Hector left hours ago and I have done nothing but smoke cigarettes since. They tasted so much better around midnight. Now I can taste the ashes in my mouth. Now they are just not doing it for me anymore

I wanted to feel something

Anything

It takes so much anymore

My garage is my landlord’s storage space. I was okay with it when I moved in because I was just so happy to have my own place. I don’t own enough things to need it anyways

It’s packed with his car, motorcycle, couch, two chairs and a love seat.

One little corner is mine where I keep my father’s old steamer trunk. He had it since long before I was born. It’s torn and ugly and just as empty but I love it

I do compulsive things. I know I do. If I don’t give into some of them then the other ones get very strong

“Yes, mother, I’m still taking my medication” were the exact last words I said to her as I closed her car door yesterday

It was as long of a truce that there ever was between me and her and I had to run away as quickly as possible before her nagging ruined a good time

I feel free now. Those pills were keeping me from me. Feeling normal is different for everyone

Not feeling anything can’t be good so I like to check sometimes just to see if I am still there

I have thought of suicide before. Before it was because I was sad. I would think of taking pills and just falling asleep to never wake up again.

I don’t know if I feel sad anymore. Now, every so often I will stop in the middle of whatever it is I am doing and go blank for a few seconds as I look at my wrists

“I could get out of this if I wanted” I always think

It’s not that I would really do it. It’s just a sudden urge that goes away as fast as it shows up

The cold concrete is welcoming as I walk through the door of the garage. As welcoming as any spider bite I may have to endure

As strong as the musty smell and as thick as the dust on the car that I run my finger through

As soft as the top of the couch that I lay my shirt on

As caring as the cushion where I leave the rest of my clothes

I wish someone were here to take a picture of me on the motorcycle he shakes the walls with when he starts

The one that I am too afraid to sit on because it could fall over on me like this

I should probably get some sleep

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Author: The Unamused Muse

You know me better than I do.

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