“Loser”

Karasu 020709

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Summary: (one-shot, intended mxm) I wonder what this says about me…

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I haven’t slept for three days.

And you know, after a while, the days kinda bleed into one. Where I can’t tell when one night ends and another begins. When my minutes and hours fly by at the speed of light or sound or whatever the fuck is faster. One minute I look at the little clock in the right hand corner: 5:26 AM. Two seconds later and it’s 8:41 AM.

I haven’t gotten anything done. Besides doing every possible thing on the Internet twice in a row, trolling my friends’ MySpaces because I have nothing better to do. I tried to draw once. Maybe. I can’t remember anything anymore. I can’t remember whether I’ve stopped or started this story before. Whether I’ve been typing on it for two minutes or two days.

That strange euphoria sets in when you don’t sleep. Where your limbs are still attached, but at the same time they feel floaty and really far away. Inbetween your eyes hurts, but it’s a calming, numbing pain. You can’t tell if you’re laying down or sitting up, if you’re upside down or rightside up or anything.

I broke up with my boyfriend today. Maybe it was yesterday. Fuck, who knows? All I know is that maybe I made a mistake (who else would want my insomniac ass?). He’s the only one that’s put up with all my shit, I know that. From my ramblings about video games to my thoughts on how the world works.

But it’s also not acceptable that he calls me “rude” and “annoying,” twists my words around so I end up eating them.

He’s probably the love of my life.

I lit a candle to commemorate. Four years of love, lust, and new things burning in my mind like the wick attached to the can of “CINNAMON BUNS.” I burnt my thumb on the lighter. I wonder what this says about me.

Probably not as much as the boxes of half-eaten food scattered around the bed that I haven’t left in a week. The bottles of Dasani water filled with old gum, Q-Tips, and straw paper because I’m too goddamn lazy to get up and walk ten feet to the trash can.

That and the insomniac tendencies. That probably says a lot, too.

…

But where was I going with this?

Certainly not grossing you out with my daily habits.

Uhm. Fuck, now I can’t remember. I was talking about not sleeping, and how it made you feel so… disoriented. So alive, but so spaced out at the same time. Then about my boyfriend. Then about my habits. So I know where I got lost, I guess. Now I just need to get back on track.

Shit, it’s 8:52 AM. Where does the time go?

I think my boyfriend and I (or should I call him my ex now?) broke up around six. Over MSN Messenger. How fucking lame am I? I was going to do it in person the next time I saw him, but I was a little put off by some of his comments last night. This morning. A few hours ago—WHATEVER. You get it.

So yeah, that’s how we broke up.

UGH, I’m digressing again.

Maybe I should go to sleep? I think I had plans today, but I think my dad sprained his back or something so we’re not going to go. Hell, I’m half out of it and I have no clue what I’m rambling on about half the time. Maybe this will be entertaining? Maybe not.

It’s probably really annoying. Hearing me go on and on about my now-ex boyfriend and my dad’s back or something. You’re probably either thinking that you wished I would get to some goddamned semblance of a plot, or that I would just shut the fuck up and sleep already.

I’m kinda hoping for the latter myself.

And it’s so glorious. Sleep, that is. Especially that little period of time where you don’t know if you’re asleep or not, but you’re kinda dreaming, only everything seems really… real. When I was younger, I used to be able to make myself stay in that state of sleep (does it even have a name?) for hours. I would run off and have adventures with my dream-mates, but I could remember everything and it was all magical and shit.

Now that I’m older, I can’t stay in that stage anymore. It’s so fleeting that I barely notice it and then I’m asleep. I miss it. Running around and being invincible.

Because now… I’m about as mortal as they come.

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Author’s Notes: You can probably guess this… but I need sleep. ):

Still exploring a style for my autobiography.