It’s 2:31am, and I cannot sleep. Partially because I fell asleep relatively early last night and slept well into this afternoon. Partially because I got caught up in watching episodes of Parks & Rec on Netflix. And partially because I cannot stop thinking, thinking, thinking–as always happens late at night. Always when I need my mind to just slow the fuck down. Always when I would give anything to not think about him or her or you or them or here or there.
I watched A Clockwork Orange tonight on a recommendation from a friend and because I read the novel months ago. Anthony Burgess’ novel, in my opinion, is certainly better. Not that Stanley Kubrick’s adaptation wasn’t well done, because it was. I just felt that it was a story better read than viewed. I think a reader gains a lot from Burgess’ language in the novel that cannot translate to the screen. Regardless, I needed to counter the film’s intensity with something…less intense…so I put on several episodes of Parks & Rec, my latest obsession. I’m almost done with season four. I don’t know if I should be proud or ashamed that I’ve managed to accomplish that in a matter of days.
It’s getting tough to be here again. I don’t want it to be. But I’m starting to get into that slump where I don’t want to leave my bed let alone the apartment. I slept until almost noon today, took a shower, and then crawled right back into bed until almost three o’clock. That is not okay. I’m already two days behind on schoolwork, which will only create more stress for my weekend. And now I’m thinking again. About her and about him and about so-and-so and about there–all five hours away–and about here and me and now. And how I feel sick and headache-y and lonely and tired. And how I don’t want to be this person anymore. But I miss him and her and you and them and those guys and that place. But it’s difficult to miss places and people that you think you maybe are outgrowing. Except you aren’t really growing into the new place either. And so you’re stuck. And it feels awful. And then you long for what you don’t have simply because you don’t have it anymore. But maybe that’s wrong. So you give yourself a slap in the wrist, open a beer, and watch a movie, promising that tomorrow will be better. Tomorrow you’ll get up before noon. Tomorrow you will run an errand. Tomorrow you will get work done. And before you know it, you’re ending another night alone in bed, with another beer, and another movie. Like clockwork.
Untangle 