The boy I liked started treating me like shit. Avoiding me. Avoiding himself. Swatting away feelings like mosquitos. He ended our relationship over a text message. He told me he didn’t have time for a relationship. He told me he didn’t have time to be sad about it.
He’s dating someone else now.
I stole glittery glue-on nails from Target last week and put them on at my dining room table. My dining room table seats 6 but I have never hosted a dinner party. I’ve only lived here for 2 months. The nail on my right thumb keeps falling off, it fell off this weekend and I didn’t glue it back on. But I just opened my book to start reading and it fell out of one of the pages. I guess I thought it wouldn’t get lost there. Turns out, I was right.
I have to commute to work tomorrow and try not to think about the boy I liked, which is hard. I always pick my scabs. The glue on my right thumb nail won’t come off even after I soaked it in acetone for ten minutes. I guess I just have to wait.
I have to commute to work tomorrow and I don’t want to because commuting to work means I have to get up before the sun when it’s still twenty two degrees outside. And I have to jump out of my sweatpants and jump into my real pants, which I would guess are usually about twenty four degrees at the time I wake up. And I have to collect all my things and drive far away and pretend not to think about how much I hate my job. And the boy.
My therapist told me to rearrange my bedroom, which I know doesn’t sound like advice a therapist should give, but it’s true. She told me to focus my energy so I could sleep better. I’ve had my bed in four different spots, which is a lot. I’ve only lived here for two months. But last week, I moved it to the one spot I hadn’t tried, the one spot that my gut told me to initially. Sometimes I don’t listen to my gut because my feelings are too big and I confuse them for instinct when it’s really just Bryce. Bryce is what I named my anxiety.
Turns out, my therapist was right. I haven’t had a bad night of sleep since. For about two months, I was waking up every night at 2am and tossing and turning until my alarm went off. Now I get into bed early. Sometimes I just lay there and try to listen to my feelings. Sometimes I fall right asleep. But I still don’t like waking up.
“I thought it wouldn’t get lost in there. Turns out I was right.” Oof
i adore this