Sometimes, I’m still in pieces over you.

a recent dream

Remember that night when you called me from DC, and you were being sick all over yourself because you’d drank too much, and you wanted me to stay on the phone with you ’cause it made you feel better? I did. Making sure you were still breathing because I couldn’t get your stupid ass to understand that if you were going to fall asleep, you certainly shouldn’t do it sleeping on your back when you’ve already been sicking up all night. In between the heaving and moments of semi-consciousness you alternated between four phrases. “You’re so pretty”, “What the fuck was I thinking?”, “Thank you for staying here with me” & “This was a bad idea.”

I stayed on the phone 30 minutes after you passed out drunk on the bathroom floor, listening to each inhale and exhale, hoping for the next one. I’ve almost never felt so helpless before.

Almost.

I’ve realised that I think too far ahead in some situations and that I compensate for it by not thinking at all in the others.

Sometimes I get anxious when I see a wall. Looking for traces of a name, either mine or one I don’t recognise. Bracing myself. Never that good with words, better when they were on the wall. Little things and the smell of spray paint.