072905Dear You, What happened? When I�m around, you act like I don�t exist. I get no hugs. I get no hellos. I don�t even get a general glance in my direction. Oh wait, I do get the honor of sitting there and watching you interact with everyone but me. It never used to be like this. What it boils down to is the fact that you don�t respect me as a human being. That�s what really gets me. I know you�re not a mean person by nature, so I�m unsure of where this comes from. Just so you know, it needs to stop. It�s completely immature and childish. And coming from a 20-something makes it even worse. I am trying really hard to be your friend. A lot of people tell me it may not be worth it, but I know the real person behind the actions. I�d like to go back to being civil. Let me know when you feel like acting your age. Sincerely,
071805For the fourth morning in a row, I opened my eyes to find him lying next to me. And this morning, along with the rest, I quickly snapped them shut. I slowly opened one, as if expecting him to have vanished in that short period of time. Maybe I thought it was a dream. Maybe I am dreaming. Why me? There are a million other girls you could have. I sped back to my house as the clock ticked the minutes past noon. Pulling into the driveway, I looked at my bedroom windows. The blinds were still shut. I wondered where he was. As I unlocked the back door, the sound of a midday news show hit my ears. I turned the corner to find him sprawled out on the futon. �Get the fuck out of my house,� I joked, when my real thoughts consisted of, Honey, I�m home. I could get use to this. Even the best fall down sometimes
071405I laid on my back staring up at the ceiling. Being well past midnight, it was very dark in my room, but not pitch black. I could sense the soft purple hues of the city beyond my blinds. My newly installed air conditioner hummed nosily next to my bed, its blast of cool air more than making up for the auditory disturbance. I glanced at the clock: 2:18 a.m. I groaned internally, partly from anger at my insomnia and partly from not wanting to wake the slumbering male at my side. I turned my head and could only make out his general shape. The slow rise and fall of his side signaled that I was the only party awake in the dingy white room on 18th Avenue. I thought back to a conversation over wine and fresh baked bread. He asked me what I did before I went to sleep, if I had any thoughts running through my head. I'd answered truthfully, no, that I usually just roll over twice and that's that. But as I'd already flipped numerous times in the last five minutes and was nowhere near sleep, I began to evaluate the topics on my mind. Two weeks ago, I�d gone out on a Thursday night at the request of a friend. He came up and talked to me, despite my horrid bar attire of a baseball hat, t-shirt and jeans, complimented by barely a hint of makeup. Tonight finds four-course dinner dishes piled in the sink. I heard him stir and wanted to run my fingers through his hair to lull him back to sleep, but I laid there, unmoving. As I turned my eyes back towards the ceiling, I wondered what would happen next. A yawn came out of nowhere, catching me by surprise. I can worry about that another day, I thought to myself. For now, it was time to sleep.
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