The clock.

It’s 1:44am and my stomach hurts. I need to be sleeping - damn, damn, damn all this useless screen time.

Snapshots of my introvert life:

- I’m not eating better, but I’m eating less. Maybe that IS eating better? Baked potatoes have been my thing lately.

- Back to feeling nothing about my dad passing. My mom put this small clock in his bathroom. It has a rooster on it. “comforting farmhouse chic” - he would have never invited that in his space. The ticking is the only noise that comes from his old room now. There are no belly laughs from old Family Guy episodes echoing from that corner of the house. I hate that clock so much. My only feeling about the whole situation right now is anger at the clock. I’ve numbed myself to everything else.

- My dad was a complicated man. I’ve been called complicated, but I think he out-complicated me. I loved him very much. Yet there were so many parts of him I didn’t really know. I‘ll never forget him confused and drowsy from medications in his hospital bed just repeating over and over again “Let me die. Your mother hates me. Let me die.” The disturbing monotone message repeated over and over again… like a horrible clock ticking. Hah! But that’s my only public comment on that.

- I keep doing the wrong things. I don’t do EVERYTHING wrong, but I choose comfort in every situation where I can get away with it. I’m trapped by repetitive comforts. Scroll, scroll, scroll and nothing changes. There’s that clock analogy again. So I stay stale. Hah! That’s so un-funny that I have to laugh.

- I want to be seen. Validation. Understanding. All of those things and more. I will never understand why I get so hung up on certain people absorbing me. I guess I just find them interesting and I want that to flow both ways.

- I once liked a guy for no reason. Maybe I missed being a child so much that I reverted back to third grade. It was partly his face. His impish smile. He was smart. I idolized him without really knowing him. He came around to me eventually. It didn’t end well.

- I want to stay alive for books more than anything else. I want quiet and safe adventures.

“Try to make this life my own… make my way back home and learn to fly.” - The Foo Fighters. (RIP drummer whose name I forgot!). That song has been stuck in my head for awhile. “I can’t quite make it alone.”

The end. Falling asleep.