mistakes & musings

Sleep and other bittersweet indulgences

Lately, all I’ve been able to do is sleep. Maybe that’s because sleep is all I want to do, and I’m just struggling to accept that. Of course, I have a job, so it’s not like I’ve fallen into this deep, unforgiving depression where I sleep in 20-hour segments or whatever. But it’s safe to say that if I’m not at work, I’m probably in bed with my eyes closed. If not readily “sleeping,” I am wishing I were asleep. 

Because when I sleep, I dream. And when I dream, I dream of you. And when I dream of you, we are together. 

Some days, the distance is not so bad. It’s even — dare I say — nice, or pleasant. I don’t feel defined or controlled by the fact that I’m in a romantic relationship. I can go wherever I like, drink an ungodly number of iced coffees and belt Adele songs in my car without judgment. I am independent as ever, I just happen to be a girlfriend, too. 

Then there are the days — most days, admittedly — when the distance is all I think about. Minutes inch by and it feels like I will live ten thousand more lives until I’ll see you again. I swear you’re not even living on this planet. You’re on the moon, living in one of those futuristic colonies in the year 2130. That’s how far away you feel from me. It’s not really painful. It’s just…unfair. 

Because I think about all the time we had “together” — living in the same city for so long, merely miles apart, and yet it took us years to realize how right we are for another. I am grateful to be with you now, but slightly remorseful that we didn’t try sooner. Well, you tried. I ran away. Because, as my therapist has often pointed out, I am a self-sabotager and I run away or create drama when I’m presented with any sense of normalcy. I don’t blame you. I can’t blame you. This took time because I took time. And now I’ve got to deal with the suffering, the loneliness.

It’s strange how complete I feel now because of you. But I can’t figure out if what’s stranger is how empty I am without you here. How did I walk these streets and sit at these bars so casually before you? How did anything make sense before you? 

It didn’t. I understand that now.

All of a sudden, you are everything I’ve ever wanted. But according to the more than 1,300 miles currently between us, I can’t have you. There’s distance and circumstance and time and space and all of those terrible obstacles life places in your path to supposedly make you stronger and more resilient. 

I see these obstacles strewn about on the road that lay ahead and all I feel is angry and alone. 

So I sleep. I sleep to find refuge from reality. When I’m not sleeping, I’m awake and aware and alive, but those words lack meaning. I feel like I’m constantly being followed by a melancholy jazz band, playing sad ballads wherever I go — a subtle, never-ending soundtrack to accompany my wistful thoughts. That is how I long for you.

When I am with you, I am reminded that my heart exists. I am content in ways I did not know were possible, in ways that transcend language and measurement. There is just you and me and it makes sense. 

In my dreams, it makes sense. 

I used to keep a diary, but if I forgot for two or three days, I’d lose track of what had happened on which day. Yesterday could have been the day before yesterday, or vice versa. I’d sometimes wonder what kind of life this was. Which is not to say that I found it empty. I was - very simply - amazed. At the lack of demarcation between the days. At the fact that I was part of such a life, a life that had swallowed me up so completely. At the fact that my footprints were being blown away before I even had a chance to turn and look at them.

- Haruki Murakami 

(Source: seabois, via fuckthereallife)

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