Guest Post: 0200

I can’t sleep. When I lie in bed at night, it’s like I’m doing everything I’m supposed to not be doing in order to go to bed. Thoughts become a flash flood that was never on the forecast, and I was the poor soul that went camping by the riverside.
Thought 1. The One that Escaped.
The first thing that struck me was how breathtakingly pretty she was. There was a sense of elegance to her, one that was hidden behind her expressionless face. She and I had a lot more in common than I had ever anticipated. Music taste, favorite food, life philosophy, there was nothing that we disagreed about. We grew closer, but with such limited time. College meant that I had to say goodbye to her in three weeks, and I didn’t want to put her through a relationship with an expiration date. I have a date with her tomorrow, although neither of us will call it that. But I know she loves me as much as I do, and maybe, just maybe, if I had some time for us to grow, and got more time to ourselves, we would end our date with me pulling her towards me, her eyes closed in anticipation–

Thought 2. The Trauma.
I’m in that place again. That same place, fourteen years ago, when I peed my pants at preschool. The kids are laughing. I tell them to stop, trembling in my own pool of accidents and regrets. They point at me, and call me names, oh God, please make this stop…
Thought 3. The Anticipation.
The big barbecue is tomorrow. I’m pretty excited! I’ll get to see a lot of friends before I leave for school. What was I supposed to bring again? Was it the charcoal, or maybe it was the lighter fluid? Dang, I need to go check my sticky notes again. But that would mean I have to get up… Nah, I’ll do it tomorrow morning.
Thought 4. Self-reflection.
Man, it’s late. 2AM and I won’t show any signs of fatigue. I’ll probably wake up at noon again, and my mother will probably make a big fuss about it again.
The world vaporizes and rematerializes around me. I’m with her again, right where I left off. She cranes her neck to the side, and slowly inches to my face. I close my eyes, and right as our lips meet–
I’m crying. They’re surrounding me, laughing at me and taunting me. I keep crying and crying as I pick up the lighter fluid from the market, then the tears are gone. I playfully chide her to stop holding my hand so tightly. She flashes a mischievous but cute smile at me, and squeezes my hand tighter. I’m not complaining. Jeez, it’s only 2:01?
They say the night is quiet, but that’s only because they can’t hear my thoughts raging inside me like a rabid wolverine. I know not how to tame it; all I know is that I need to go to sleep…

Other guest posts by the same author:

The State of the Senior

Prison Cell 228

The Four

The Answer

The End of the World?

The Final Chapter of Fahrenheit 451

One comment

  1. Pingback: What would your ideal writing space look like? | Catherine Zhang

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