a million thoughts i can’t sort out

I can’t sleep. It’s as if I’d drank coffee within four hours before bedtime. And I don’t normally have trouble sleeping; in fact, I sleep almost an instant I decide to close my eyes. But this time, I can’t sleep.

I’m thinking about a number of different things. I’m thinking about William, and what to make of what we are and what he is. I’m thinking about my manager who tried to make me pay for the pizza I made for myself, although I had no money at all and had intended to make the pizza my only meal for today. I’m thinking about all the possible places I could work, and why Brandy Melville will never know what they’re missing out on because they’re only going to be judging me from my photos. I’m thinking about that girl who has nine hundred followers on her instagram and on each of her photos she’s with at least two other people. About how she probably would’ve gotten hired at Brandy Melville had she actually cared about wearing the right clothes, with pretty patterns and skimpy cuts. How I could have been her when I went to high school. About how mad I am for not having lived then. Lived the way I could’ve when it was truly so easy.

And my eyes, oh how they ‘re screeching to close.

But I’m thinking about William. I’m thinking about where he’ll be five, ten, years from now without me beside him. About the time we spent together during New Years Eve at the beach, on the rocks, watching fireworks. I’m thinking about how, when I hold his hand, or when I touch his face, or when I’m on top of him, I feel like I never want to be anywhere else, because no where else will I ever feel as home as with him. I’m thinking about my dear friend Mary–oh God I love her–and our coffee morning together two days with updates on our daily lives, because we’ve been slacking on hanging out. How, because of me she’s now talking to George, and I’m so happy for it. I’m thinking about the Double Slit Theory and the mysteries of the Bermuda Triangle and Flatland and the Four-Dimensional World. And then tesseracts–merely shadows of the fourth dimension. I’m thinking about how I had slipped up last night, and for the first time in an imperceivable while, I had been inconsiderate, narrow-minded, and mean. I’m thinking about William. About how, perhaps four, five, six months, maybe a little over a year from now, one morning he’ll have evaporated into thin air from my embrace. Because that’s just his nature. I’m thinking about the idea of love. Whether or not William is even capable of it. And I’m mad! Mad that he can’t love as richly as I can, and yet still love greatly, in his own damn stupid empty way. But I’m just sad. I can’t do anything about anything.

By now my eyes might have slightly adjusted to the tiredness and allowed itself to open, albeit lazily.

I’m thinking about neuroplasticity, and the brain’s ability to change from our day-to-day doings. I’m thinking about how I still need to get a damn license, and a damn car. I’m thinking about how fucking broke I am that I rely on the food at work for my diet. I’m thinking about Kent State University and fashion design and my plans to live in Ohio for a year without going to school, just working. About all my expenses, and all the money that I don’t know I’ll be able to have. About the possibility of living in a van instead. And then I think about that future without William. I think about how alone I am, how lonely I am, and how I will never ever find another William. I’m thinking about my friend Alex, and how I might’ve been taking him for granted recently. How I’ve been so aggressive and inconsiderate with him. I’m thinking about stupid and pathetic I am. I am inadequate–I’ve forgotten what that feels like. I’m thinking about how the one who will give me a wedding ring might be some other brunette haired man wearing some unfamiliar suit. And how William might be somewhere else, living in an apartment instead of his van, doing things related to music. And I don’t know what to make of that. But I love him. I love him with all my heart and in every sense of the word. I fucking love him.

I’m scared, I’m mad, I’m sad, I’m frustrated, I’m annoyed, I’m confused, I’m curious, I can’t sleep.


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