Summer Nights

I can’t sleep. I can’t relax. I can’t seem to stop my muscles from tightening and locking into an uncomfortable position. It’s too hot. I should bring the fan in from the garage, but I don’t want to get up. I don’t want to disturb anyone else. I wonder if she’s even asleep yet. She said she was struggling to sleep as well…. It’s too hot and I feel anxious, restless, tired, and sad. I can’t seem to gather my thoughts or feelings around anything long enough to change things or make it better.

I wish he were here. I wish he were sleeping with me. That always seems to help. That’s ridiculous. He’s like his own hot box, his own sun. He’s also loud with his wild and obnoxious snoring. Why should it help me to sleep next to him? I don’t know, but I want to, and I really want to for the rest of my life. Fuck. I’m so anxious about that. I want that now. I want to live with him and start in on our future, but we have so much to do and work on until then. I can’t help but wonder if we are even going to make it - if we’ll reach our goals and make things happen by the end of the year. He’s making me nervous by delaying and taking so long to accomplish shit. Fuck. I know he’s also got a lot going on, and he’s been productive about so much, but those things aren’t making us more money.

Fuck money. I hate money. I hate needing money. I hate our economy and the way of the world right now. Everything feels like a wild shit show, and it’s only going to get worse. As a woman, this terrifies me, and I’m not sure he totally understands, but how could he? He’s still doing everything he can to be supportive. I want him to be here. I want my cat. Maybe I should get up and bring her into bed with me. No, getting up will only wake me up further, and I still can’t sleep. How can I be this tired and still not be able to sleep? I feel like I should be taking sleeping pills. Fuck. That’s the last thing I need: more pills. That’s part of what’s wrong with this country.

No, let’s think about tomorrow, make a list, and dream about the future. I have to go to work tomorrow. I hate going to work. I hate this job. I hate working my ass off forty hours a week to not have enough money to really survive or save. This whole world is fucked up.

Damn it. He’s awake and screaming now. I hope he’s okay. Please don’t come in here and ask for help. Please. Please. Please. Damn it. Now the dog is barking. What time is it? Four in the morning, awesome. Now the cat is awake. Great. I might as well get up and feed her, or she won’t shut up.

Everything is fine. I’m fine. My uncle is fine. It’ll all be okay. I wish my boyfriend as here. I want our future so badly. I don’t want to go to work, but I’ll do whatever I have to to make things happen. I really just want to sleep. I wish I could rest. I wish I didn’t have to wake up so early, so at least I could sleep in. It’s going to be a rough day. I have to get a lot done tomorrow, but I’m betting most of it is going to be half assed or shitting since I won’t have full brain capacity now. It’s fine.

It’s too hot. I need a fan. I need my own air conditioner blowing in directly on my bed, and I need my boyfriend. Fuck. Is it October yet? Am I ready for October? Are we really going to make all of our goals by then? I don’t know. I want it to be October, though. I’m ready for a vacation. I’m ready to quit. I’m ready to be with him full time. Then maybe I could sleep.

The dog is still barking…. I can hear them talking now. I’m betting he’s not going to go back to sleep. Great. My cat is still meowing. Maybe I should give up and accept that I’m not getting sleep tonight… no. I don’t want to open my eyes yet. I don’t want to move. I don’t want to accept defeat. Sleep! Please! I’m sorry for whatever I did to upset you. Please come back to me. Please just give me a few hours. Fuck.

My phone beeps. Another message from TikTok. I don’t care. I can’t answer that right now. I don’t want to watch another silly video about someone making light of the terrible state of the world. I’m already made enough at what’s happening. I’m already stressed enough about how much more work we are going to have to do in order to succeed in life. It’s fine. It’ll be fine. I wish I had my boyfriend’s optimism. Though him always seeming so positive is part of why I’m always so concerned. Is he really happy, or does he just not want me to see how upset he really is? It’s hard to know. I wish he would share more with me. It’s it just a normal man with a trauma response, or is it just that he doesn’t want to share with me? No, it’s not me. He loves me. I know that. He says it’ll be okay. It’ll be okay.

Just stay in bed. Keep your eyes closed. Resting is better than nothing. I wish my back didn’t hurt. Maybe if I stay half in and half out of the covers, I can be comfortable and not boiling. Keep your eyes closed. Just ignore everyone. It’ll be okay. Clear your mind.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

“Liza? Are you awake? I’m so sorry, but could you come help me? I tried to lift him myself, but I can’t,” my aunt calls out, muffled from the other side of the door. Damn it. I might as well get up and stay up. I throw the covers off and go to open the door. My cat zooms out past me, desperate to get outside. I resist the urge to roll my eyes.

“It’s okay. I wasn’t sleeping. Let’s go.”