Sometimes, I wonder if I’m really sane. Sunday night, I got five hours of sleep. Last night, I got four. Shit, in two days, I’ll have as much sleep as a lot of people get in one day. It’s not the lease amount of sleep I’ve ever gotten in a two day period, but it’s still not fun to work like this. I know today is going to kick my ass. I know I’ll come home from work and take a nap. I know I’m going to be relying on stimulants to stay awake. Worth every minute awake these last couple of days.
Right now, it seems like I’m 41 going on 14. I feel like a teenager that’s in love and can’t control his thoughts. One of yesterday’s blog titles was “Conversation’s Over,” but I don’t want these conversations to end. Some conversations, I want to end almost as soon as they start.
“Fuck you!” Conversation’s over.
Not these conversations. Sometimes, words are not adequate enough. Pictures are worth a thousand words. Seeing the love in someone’s eyes and face is insanely satisfying. It pains me deeply that my eyes and face betray me. It doesn’t show the love and satisfaction I feel. Even writing this, I tear up a little. I so desperately want to show my feelings. After decades of hiding what I feel, it isn’t easily undone. No one else paid attention to this. I can only imagine why this was the case, but now, someone is. I am eternally grateful for this. I fear I will disappoint in this regards. I can make all the excuses in the world. I can have all of the reasons in the world, but that does not make it hurt any less if I disappoint this person. It doesn’t hurt any less that I so desperately want to show my emotions way more than I have. Then again, it can be difficult to show emotion through a screen when I am so mesmerized by the look of love in her eyes and the conversation. I get lost in it. I even forget to breathe sometimes.
I don’t know. I’m blabbering after four hours of sleep. Maybe this makes sense, or maybe it’s like me texting at 2AM on ambien and it’s just a bunch of garbled letters. I guess at least I didn’t attach a dick pick with those jumbled words. Fuck! Time to go to work.
One response to “41 Going on 14”
Some of my favorites are written when sleep deprived. At least you’re making the best of the situation… love when filters falter!