Sleeping with boys

4 AM

My insomnia has been really bad lately. Can’t take anymore sleeping pills or else I won’t be able to work this morning. I tried working with sleeping pills in my system last Sunday. It didn’t work out so great.
Lately it’s been hard for me to spend much time in public or with my friends. I find conversation exhausting for one thing, especially since most of my friends have little in common with me. Thus, I always come across as pessimistic, grouchy and sarcastic. At least, I think I do. I’m not my happy-go-lucky self, anyway.
Secondly, it hurts too much. When I’m out in public I am watching exactly what I can’t have: close friends or a boyfriend (or both) who kind of understand me and want to have fun the way I want to have fun. It’s so selfish. Why can’t I just appreciate the loyal friends that I have? I should have realized that nothing is ever like the movies I watch or the novels I read. Maybe afterwards, looking back, my social life seems good. But I can never seem to appreciate things in the moment.

Watching boys is so hard. I’m just so starved in this sickly seclusion. I want some kind of male friend, romantic or not, who gets me, at least a little. Who will stand by me. And I have great guy friends who will stick by me. All two of them. But they don’t really know me. I think they’ve tried to understand, but I’m somehow beyond their ken.

It all hurts so much.

And I feel selfish at the same time. Isn’t what I have good enough? Isn’t God good enough?

In bed tonight (or rather, last night) after an evening of dinner, a movie and Barnes and Noble with James and Gina, I thought of the boyfriend from the dream I had last week. I can still feel what it felt like to have his soft hair on my face, to feel his fingers around mine, staunching that weird wound I had.

My insomnia is such that I’m very sleepy, but I fall only part way asleep (if at all). In my dreams I’m still a half-asleep zombie. In my dream I was in the wet grass; it was flooding with water. I dragged my tired body through the spongy puddles to the road. Despite my tiredness, I forced myself to stand up and run through the rain. I leaped into each black puddle I could, hoping to splash up some sense of meaning, of joy. I found part of an abandoned school and slept there for a time. I got up and the 24-hour neon fast food counter inside blinked at me. I recognized the boy working. Why must I be incapacitated by sleepiness when I could be talking with him? I looked a mess and my mouth was hanging open. I stumbled around for awhile before falling asleep on the stairs next to a black boy who was trying to kiss me.

I think I must be the most pathetic person alive. It’s hard knowing that nothing will change as long as I’m too sick for anything new.