Anonymous asked:

If that post about me is true, you sure do complain a lot. Dude

It is true. I might complain a lot about a bunch of stupid little things but it all stems from one major thing - your absence.

You could write me a novel every day about all the ways and things you love about me, but all I really want is for you to be here. Physically. I just want you around. I don’t need all of your attention, nor all of your time. I just want to share a space with you. Share silence and share warmth. I want you in the other room while I’m cooking dinner and I want to be nervous about you busting into the bathroom to interrupt my pee. I want long drives and minor disagreements about music. I want to hear you laugh in your sleep and to feel you reach for me when we’ve drifted apart. I want your morning complaints about all of my alarms and my nightly complaints about you going to sleep so early.


I miss seeing your face - it’s where all of my favorite memories begin. At Seven Grand when you started talking to me and I noticed the funny way you cock your head when you’re listening. (Now I know that it’s usually followed up with an “Oh, okay.”) On our first date when I fell out of my chair and the shock wasn’t enough to override the smile on your face. The first time I visited you in Oakland, you took me to Monk’s Kettle and spent most of the evening with stars in your eyes and I felt the weight of the night before lift. The last time I visited you and you told me you loved me for the first time soberly. Probably the most solemn I’ve ever seen you. Your sleepy eyes and closed-mouth smile when I helped myself on your lap before your nap in the recliner at Brooke and TJ’s during your last visit. And then the last time I saw you – you were across the street and yelling at me for pouring my water on the concrete instead of the grass. It wasn’t at all how I expected to see you go, but it was so perfectly, absurdly you.

By the time you read this, we’ll be in the Double Digits and I’m growing more and more eager for your return. As much as I enjoy wanting, I imagine this feeling is much like the one you get when you don’t get your way. That special kind of Only Child Selfishness. I want you back so much it makes me crazy and it’s easier for me to thrash about - to complain - than it is for me to find peace in patience.

Our whole evolution has been about patience, time, and distance. I’m ready to see what life is like with you firmly and happily by my side.

So, yea, I complain a lot but it’s because I miss you terribly.

usualchatter replied to your post:I’m not sleeping again. I’m waking up every couple…

Maybe stop checking your phone & the time. A) The specific wavelength of light from the phone screen is disruptive to circadian rhythm.B) I think it prevents you from relaxing. Put the phone across the room (works wonders for me tbh).

I usually only check my phone/time if I’m not able to fall asleep within 15-20 minutes - usually out of boredom at that point.

I’m not sleeping again. I’m waking up every couple of hours, checking the time, checking my phone, turning to this side, adjusting this pillow, kicking off the blanket, tucking the sheet under my neck, turn to that side, do it all again. Over and over, all night long.

I haven’t found anything that helps. The fan drowns out the sound, the curtains block out the light, the melatonin lulls me to sleep in the beginning, but it doesn’t keep me there. Exercise, meditation, eating before a certain time, avoiding sugar, avoiding alcohol, avoiding caffeine, yoga, slow, deliberate breathing, counting of things, daydreaming - I’ve done it all. I don’t remember the last time I slept through the night consistently.

I was up at 4 this morning, I watched the sky light up slowly and then all at once. I made myself coffee, hopped in the shower, fed the dog, cleaned my room, made my bed, put away laundry, even made myself breakfast. The morning was warm and sticky by 8:00am and I was feeling pretty okay.

I guess it was nice to get so much done, but it’s hardly 1 and I’m growing irritable. I feel like thrashing around like an inconsolable toddler. Those that say happiness is a choice don’t know what it’s like to live life on 4 hours of disjointed sleep every night. It’s hard to think rationally with a head full of fog. 

Momentary helplessness, I just want to sleep.