if you're lucky, you'll find yourself in the dark sometimes.
it is nice to say hello once in a while. why don't you visit more often?
this thread-count is like sandpaper.
with the help of my snarky friend Insomnia, i can't help flipping around on my too-big-bed, digging up the bones of relationships past. why did i fail? why wasn't i enough? this mattress is seriously too empty. i want to throw it out my window and sleep with my head on my desk forever. instead of a refuge, it's become my cage. i lie here, unable to crack my back the way i need to, hyperaware of the superfluous space of a queen mattress. painfully aware of the reason i got one in the first place.
i'm chained to it. a bed of glass. cutting into me. won't let me go. it's too hot. it's too cold. when i reach out, there's nothing there.
i brought it up with a housemate, the other day in the living room. how i don't feel safe here. safe to be myself. in this space, in this residence. she listened with an empathetic voice but i could see her reflexively move away. i went upstairs and planted myself on this goddamn torture chamber covered in fuzzy japanese blankets and watched the comedy central roast of james franco twice in a row until i passed out.
now i remember why i don't visit.
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