There Are Nights.

There are nights when I do not sleep.
There are nights when my head aches.
There are nights when I hate my wrists.
There are nights when I watch I Love Lucy and Gilligan’s Island.
There are nights when I dance to Shakira on repeat. That’s most nights.
There are nights when I wait.
There are nights when I throw my phone across the room.
There are nights when my skin fizzes at the pop of your words.
There are nights when the edges of my thumbs are sore from learning that sad song on keyboard.
There are nights when my eyes look for you in places you’ve never been.
There are nights when I dream awake of wolves and kingdoms and destiny.
There are nights when I pray for you to lay me low and love me.
There are nights when I get out of bed at 2am to get in the bath.
There are nights when I want to talk.
There are nights when I don’t know what to say.
There are nights, so many nights, when I wonder. If, how, yes, no, maybe, I don’t know. Can you repeat the question?
There are nights when nothing feels like reality.
There are nights when the pressure of the city and the world and the universe and the other universes pushes into my sternum like a mean kid would push his thumb into a bruise.
There are nights when I feel like a disappointment in the middle of happening.
There are nights when the unknown and ambiguity of it all pisses me the fuck off.
There are nights when I kneel on the floor underneath all of the happiness.
There are nights when I feel ashamed.
There are nights when I don’t feel anything.
There are nights when I hate.
There are nights when I cry.
There are nights when I write.

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