Sunday, February 11, 2007

(Number this.) So guess what? This is not pleasant at all, I know what you mean.
I slept at 930 thinking it would go away (how do you relieve an ache?) and I'd wake the next morning but it's cruel how it taps on your shoulder and you breathe and your chest tightens like that and suddenly you're awake and you think it's 5am but it really isn't and no one's up like you are, no one dreams your longing - for something yesyeshesaiditright tangential to reality and suppose all this were possible (and it isn't) because then I'd have to write it into some sort of poetry Excruciating To Read Poetry and it's all my own fault for allowing YOUYESYOU to slip through that crack in my seams and set up your own little tent in the middle of my consciousness and make me tell all these lies to myself and everyone else. I don't even think it's possible for anyone to comprehend the questions in bed that sleep refuses to answer (only mock with vague promises) What did You mean when you said that? you end up nudging all possibility in your favour so that Logic - who has watched you grow up from when you were but a wee bairn (now she is old and wan, not unlike yourself) - springs forward to deliver a chastising slap. Later leaving you perhaps emptier than before. My sleep-writing is slurred because I'm trying not to write you into my words but it gets increasingly difficult as thoughts of you stretch my Vs into neverending Ws and Love into Uncertainty and the tails of the gs betray only the slightest hint of heartache. You give me hope on a plate (or maybe it is a self-given gift in Foolishness) that you like to steal back or I intentionally fling aside (it's all washed up) and to not know whether something is real or isn't is possibly the most painful rumination perhaps more so than knowing the truth to end the obsession. And they say only the (love)sick and the despised. I fear it only goes away as you cease to exist, and this cannot happen because I have irrevocably tied you to my own existence, and it is more excruciating to watch something happen that I cannot control (although at first I did have some semblance of authority, it is gone now, she has it) so if I let this go then we cannot be Friends After. Simply because the reason for my insomnia is different from your somnolent wakefulness (you want, but you can't): It is not you that keeps you awake.
I just need it to go away.



Why I fear the other party's innocence: to not return love is an innocent act. Most criminal of verdicts, yet it is not a crime. To not reciprocate without knowing why, however hurtful it is, is an even greater innocence.

- 1 am and I can't sleep.
by @ 1:11 AM